I'd intended to blog yesterday, but I was plumb tuckered out. I was so tired I didn't even make it through NCIS. I went to bed at 7:30 and dreamed I was back in my Mammaw's house. We were decorating her Christmas tree, and Cody was there, too, all grown up. In my dream, I was sharing with my son a special time from my own childhood.
It was all so real-- like I was really there again. The feel of the floorboards under my feet. The creak and slam of the screen door. That slightly musty smell older houses have. "So many of my childhood memories in this house..." I told my son, as I looked around. It was such a special place.
That house is gone, now. It's been torn down, but my memories remain. I wish my son could have known that house, and the lady that lived there. I don't even have pictures any more. So much of my childhood was destroyed in the hurricane. Ike. The forgotten storm.
I woke up this morning feeling nostalgic and slightly melancholy.
I suppose that's something all people go through as they get older. A longing for simpler times, for loved ones who have gone on. For the carefree days of childhood that will never return. But I'll have those memories, those precious memories, always with me.
Precious memories, how they linger
How they ever flood my soul.
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