“Do you remember where you bought this CD?” he asks, in the midst of the after-dinner cleanup and pickup. No, I can’t remember where I bought it. (We decided it must have been used off the internet, with the hole punched through the bar code.) But I remember why. It has that song on it. …
Fifteen years ago today, I met my very best friend. No, we didn’t talk that day—we were young and shy, just days past our thirteenth birthdays. But we listened to our parents as we all walked those boardwalks through Yellowstone—away from the Riverside Geyser where we met, towards Old Faithful itself. We all thrilled at…
I grew up looking at the pictures of my parents in their first little home (a trailer decked out in all those 70’s colors), my daddy wearing the hat as he prepared their first meal in their new home (an omelet—what else? my dad has always been the breakfast chef, especially on Sunday mornings), and them sneaking a kiss behind the “Kiss the Cook” washcloth.
I have not forgotten. But my children weren’t even there to remember.
I realized the person on the radio was right—to my children, the stories of 9-11 will be like the stories of Pearl Harbor were to me, to my parents.
This month at YLCF we’re walking down memory lane and re-posting some articles from the print YLCF Journals. It’s been quite the walk down memory lane. And it’s been fun, even if it has give me ample opportunity to laugh at my former self when I find a bit of “mud on memory lane” like…
Dearest, Every year about this time, it all comes flooding back to me. The reality of how close I came to the loss hits me full force. The loss of you…my then-newlywed husband, my best friend, the father of our then-future children (whom I already knew would have reddish blond curls!). You laugh when I…
Backwards sixteen years. My almost-twelve-year-old world had changed overnight: I had a brand new baby sister. Positively adorable, positively perfect. A real live baby doll to dress and photograph. When she was little, I helped with a lot of the cooking and cleaning—I helped be a mommy. And I told that little person I’d expect…
Dearest, Sometimes, I awake in the middle of the night from dreaming of you. I think to myself, I haven’t written Merritt in forever—or called him, or anything! I miss him! And then I remember—I’m married to you! You are sleeping right next to me! It washes over me anew then, as I snuggle up…
Five years ago I couldn’t stop staring at the antique engagement ring on my finger and marveling at how God had provided it. Five years ago I couldn’t stop smiling, even as the emotions of engagement and wedding planning overwhelmed me. Five years ago I was trying on wedding dresses and discovered that the shop…
Dearest Love, You talked to me when I was your sisters’ friend. You treated me normally when we were in those awkward early years of adolescence. You teased me just like you teased your sisters so I could be myself. You were a friend to me when I was a silly, frumpy, opinionated teenager. You…
Dearest Fred, Can you believe that today marks 14 years since our families met? We were just-barely-turned 13-year-olds. We had no idea we would be meeting our future spouse that day. But the God-ordained timing of the Riverside Geyser in Yellowstone National Park on September 30, 1996 changed our lives forever. It was three and…
She was born 9 and a half months after I was. Her dad was my mom’s older and only sibling. We were cousins. But far from two peas in a pod. She was mistaken for an Indian papoose, I looked like Anne Shirley. She was quiet, I was talkative. But we both liked cats. And…
The End.
The End.