On Saturday, a friend I went to preschool with got married. I also lived with her two brothers (who are also my friends) when I lived in DC a few summers ago. It was really good to be with good friends who have known me so long. It was fun to reminisce about the "old times." The times that we went camping together and our parents made us stand in a line to do the dishes in tubs and we had to rotate jobs. Sleeping outside at their house in Chatsworth and waking up to make pancakes on the griddle in their backyard. Although I was friends with the bride while growing up, I am closer to her brothers now. We all lived in a one bedroom apartment together for a summer. Strangely, none us of us slept in the bed in the bedroom. Chris and I slept on the couches in the family room because we usually fell asleep watching TV. And Matt was a waiter at a wine bar, so he often got home late and he always slept on the floor. It was a good summer. We went camping in the Shenandoah. We walked from the White House to Georgetown for some yummy home made ice cream. We caught lightning bugs on the nature reserve behind our apartment. I miss them.
|My boys - resting on a hike|
I also went to visit the house that I was born in. I just drove past. It was so much smaller than I remember it being. And it struck me, that this is often how things happen. Something that is such a huge part of our lives at a certain point, slowly becomes smaller and smaller and smaller. And even places, events, memories and the like that we place such importance on at the time become less and less a part of our lives as we grow more distant from them. In some aspects of our lives, this is a good and healthy thing. But it's important to hold on to some of those memories that make our lives and the people that we are surrounded with really count.