Saturday, February 4, 2012

The house that built me.

Today i went over to my parents around 8:30.  Jeromy is helping a friend with their garage door so, when in doubt-I head to my parents house:)

I got there and went inside where they were finishing up their pancake breakfast gathered around the table. My brother was their with his son and my kids were eating too.

As we sat at the table (which we always do). My mom got me a cup of delicious coffee and offered me some food.  We sat and talked about the night before and i told her about what i had done and she told me about what they had done.  I talked about a movie i had seen and thought they should see it too. Nothing too important, and yet so very perfect.

My Mom was leaving to get her hair cut and i was going to round up the kids since we had been chatting for about an hour and a half and i had work to get done at home. 

But after she left i had told my Dad about a table i was determined to construct by myself and drew out my ideas of what i was thinking.  Then he drew his ideas of how it could be better and we talked and constructed it in or heads.  I had mentioned that i just didn't have the tools since Jeromy keeps them all in his work truck and whenever i want to do the work, he is gone. 

My Dad headed downstairs as i started to clean up the dishes.  I filled the sink and loaded the dishwasher and just killed time.  I never like leaving my parents house because it is just so perfect there.  I love it.  I try to drink in every memory that i make there and remember the sounds and the laughter and the fun that we always have.

Well, wouldn't you know that my super hero Dad had gotten some of his older tools together and was trying to make a few changes so they would be easier for me to handle.  I went downstairs to his office and sat with him as he tried to change out a trigger for the saws all that he was giving me. 

A few minutes turned in to a half an hour and a few ideas turned into action.  Together in the garage we (he) envisioned the best way to make the base of this table and tried to prepare me for it, but in the end just thought we should do it together (more like he did it).  We walked down the hill on the old wooden steps to the back garage where he had some wood for me to choose from.  There was a fantastic bird chirping over head that i was trying to find as we gingerly walked across the ice that had formed on a few wet spots on the path. 

That's when it hit me. This house. This man. That woman. Those are the people who shaped me and made me who i am today. They are the reason that i feel joy. If there is anything good in me, it is because of them.   I feel like a part of my heart will always remain at that house.

 After we pulled out the 2 x 4 and measured the posts we headed back to the garage to get to work. I commented on the bird and we looked and found a beautiful red headed woodpecker pecking away at the trees.  Its like pretend at that house.  Like even the birds know they are at a magical place.

As i stood in the garage watching my Dad work, i was amazed at how talented he was. Not that i didn't already know it, but i love to watch him work.  He is the smartest and most wonderful Dad a girl could ask for.  He told me his plans and i tried to help as we constructed this base for my table.  Whenever i had the job of just holding a board while he found a new bit or switched saws i just looked around that garage and smiled.  My parents do things right. They work hard. The do for others. They give. They care. They conserve. And they love.  That garage makes me happy.  Seeing the many different tools hanging was so fun. There are endless things to discover at their house. 

Back to holding the wood.  I tried my best to help my Dad., make him proud. Like i had as a kid when he would cut all our hair and the boys would wiggle so much and get into trouble. I would sit as still as possible, just to make them happy with me. I always hoped he would notice. Just like in that garage. I held that wood as sturdy as i could and tried to jump at his commands. (as if i knew what i was doing)

My parents are perfect. Every child has different memories of their childhood and i have said it before and i will say it again.  I had the perfect childhood.  My parents just worked.  My Dad was the perfect man, like my Mother was the perfect woman.

It sure is hard to measure up to, but wonderful to treasure.  Nothing will match the sound of a beater mixing cream in the kitchen or the sound of a skill saw sawing wood in the garage. Those sounds make my heart sing. They make me happy.  They remind me of my childhood.  And they remind me of the overwhelming love that i have for my parents.

So, as you can imagine, even if i screw that table up and make it looks terrible...I'm gonna keep it and treasure it-because i built it with my Dad.

One of my favorite memories that took place at their house....MY WEDDING!!

Another favorite memory-Fishing with my Dad

Definite top 5 favorite things-Shooting clay pigeons in the back yard.

We don't practice for no reason-The best deer hunting story ever told!

 And another favorite-Time spent together at the house. (notice where that deer ended up!)

Can't forget Grandma and Grandpa on Halloween.

These memories are priceless. My parents are priceless. This is the house that built me...and is now building my kids.

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