I’m not sure what my earliest memory of you is Mom, but here are a few. (Pictures courtesy of my trip to Narita today)
Remember in Mansfield when it started raining while we were jumping on the trampoline? It was like something out of a movie. The wind picked up, a front rolled in, and with one big crack of thunder it started pouring. We all high tailed it back in, soaked from the 100 foot run from the trampoline to the house.
We used to walk Sally down by the golf course in Reno. It was always so pretty up there on those little trails winding across the hillside, down through the tree covered valley, by that clear-cold stream. Sally loved the stream. I suppose that cold water was heaven in summer for her in that fur coat fit for the arctic. I would always find tons of golf balls and tote them back for everyone to use; I think I found them mostly for the challenge. And maybe my memory has turned rose colored, but it seems to me there was a little section like a tunnel through an aspen forest. Perhaps that is where I began to love walking. More it was you that caused that, not any one place. Much of the time I’ve spent with you must have been walking because those seem to be some of my most vivid memories. We walked up that path across a sage brush covered field (a rather non-descript description for Reno) near the elementary school whose bell we could hear. We walked around our street and down to where that church was too. We would walk to Grandma and Granpa’s from time to time after they moved out there. We would walk to the park with the tennis court. I still love to walk Sally with you.
In high school I always wanted to stay up late (and did); you were always the most approving of that. Or, well, maybe to be more accurate I should say least disapproving.
You taught me how to wash blood out of clothes and sheets. That skill has served me well and I’ve had to use it far more than I would like.
You and I like graveyards and antiques. We were always convincing Justin and Dad to stop somewhere to look around for a good deal or a cool gravestone. Both of those have stayed with me as well. I love junkshops and find it very hard to pass one up; there could always be a buried treasure, right? Not like I need any more “treasure.” In fact, I think my room could do with quite a bit less as long as I can keep it all (I realize that is a bit of a paradox and I’ve yet to find a good solution). As you may have noticed in my pictures from Japan, graveyards are among my favorite. I’ve always loved people but have never been very good with them. Maybe that’s why I spend so much time gleaming bits of peoples’ lives from their graves. On second thought that sounds a bit morbid. Maybe I just like how they look.
I remember Grampa Williams in his garden and you in ours. I can always remember that. At every house. It remind me of the beginning of Lord of the Rings where they are describing the Hobbits as a people whose “[hearts] truly lie in peace and quiet, and good tilled earth. For all Hobbits share a love for things that grow.” The Japanese remind me of that phrase too and that is perhaps one of my favorite parts of this culture.
Thank you Mom for making me, me.
(And some more random pics, Oh, and that tree behind me is like the size of a small Sequoya)
I was lucky (again) and there was a small festival today.
It is wishing for fun travels.
This one is wishing for good grades or something at MY school. The first part say Hosei University (法政大学）.