Dusty Memories

When my mom sent me this picture this morning, I looked at it and thought about all the stories it could tell.

My mother is a timeless beauty. And I love her smile. I have a striped shirt in my dresser which is the same cut as my mom's striped shirt in this photo.

I was her second baby, and had more baby hair than any of my siblings, even though in this picture I look pretty bald. My five babies got their heads full of hair from their father.

I was not necessarily my mom's chubbiest baby. But I was a chubbier baby than any of my babies ever were.

Look at how my hand is holding onto my mother's arm. Don't you love the way babies cling? I do.

This picture was taken on my paternal grandparents' front porch. I spent time at their house every summer, and that front porch was probably my favorite part of their home. Looking at this picture makes me think of swinging with my Grandma after dinner on hot summer evenings, sometimes licking a dripping popsicle. It makes me remember my grandma's laugh. I loved that porch swing. It is what inspired me to buy one for the balcony of our second-floor apartment when Doug and I were poor young married students. I loved porch swings that much.
Our apartment balcony was shaded by big leafy trees, just like the trees you can see in the background of this picture (and reflected in the window--did you notice that?), that shaded my grandparents' driveway.

See that red truck? In my memory, it is attached to my Grandpa. He walked around the yard wearing thin cotton plaid shirts with pearly buttons, a cowboy hat, boots, and big belt buckle. He ate meat and eggs and potatoes, and he was so skinny. My grandpa drove a red truck. But I don't ever remember riding in the truck with him. I don't remember him going many places. I just remember his truck parked there in the driveway. You can't see it, but in front of the truck is a small garage, which was always full of tools and who-knows-what. I think that's where Granda parked his wheelbarrow.

My grandparents died in the 90s, and their house has been bulldozed. A little community of townhomes now sits where their house used to be. It's close to the commercial area of town, but I remember walking up the block to see a pasture of lambs when I visited them as a child.

If I had a time machine, I'd like to spend another day at my grandparents' house. Or at least travel back (or forward) to summer!