I am literally blogging on the road. Okay, technically I am sitting in a minivan that is being driven down the road. No, I am not driving. That would be crazy!
The stretch of US 31 that we take when driving back home from down south is pretty barren. I’m so bored I offered to drive a little ways.
Our van is packed to the brim and it’s not even Christmas. I am not sure how we ended up with so much more stuff than what we began with, but it seems to happen every time we visit my husband’s family in Kentucky. Part of it is that his grandfather recently passed away, and the house is full of things collected between him and his wife over the past half century.
We picked up a crate of old board games and puzzles that my husband used to play with when he visited his grandmother. We also managed to make off with a box of Christmas themed stuffed animals and enough school supplies to last us through the entire year and then some. We also have my husband’s old cub scout uniforms, and we hope our son can wear the same handkerchiefs he did.
I’ve recently been to a tag sale of a neighbors. It’s not the same as going through the home and belongings of someone that you knew and loved. There was furniture that belonged to my husband’s great-grandfather, little Catholic humor books that must have made his grandmother laugh, the cuckoo clock on the wall that had been silent for some time, the now bare wall which used to be filled with pictures of children, grandchildren, nieces and nephews.
Things are just things, and only worth the value we assign to them. I’m really excited to get the bicycle that my mother-in-law is giving to my daughter. I hope that we can fix it up, maybe even paint it. There’s something about teaching the next generation that not everything has to be new and shiny to be valuable.
We’ve now entered the neighboring county. We’ll be home in the next half hour. It’s great to visit friends and family, but it sure is nice to be back home.