Family is the most important piece of my own being. To understand me, you need to know where I have stemmed from, where I planted my roots:
Turning on right from a main road on to a drive, trees create an overhang over the faded and paved street. Homes line the drive with brown doors, blue doors, grey doors; to the left there is a white door with two square windows at the top, a peep hole that is higher than the ideal height to see visitors approach, a brass door knob that is scratched and dented, and the door hanger synchronized to the current season theme. Black shutters line the second floor windows, white and black speckled brick cover the front facade with a pitched roof line, this is number 9, my house. I wrote my name in to the brick on the front porch, I played for an immeasurable amount of time on the swing set in the backyard, I helped my mom plant our seasonal flowers around the green bushes and pine trees, I broke the wind chime that hung from a branch when I thought I was good at soccer, I took comfort in the grass as it cushioned my flips that flopped, I became a master of hiding little objects beneath the lilac bush. Dad is found coaching my basketball skills on the driveway or spotting my handstands in the grass. Tyler, my brother, is chasing our dog, Daisy, with the running hose. This is home. I lived in this house my entire life. As much as I love to travel and experience new places and people, this sense of home comes with me everywhere and always has the pull to bring me back. As much as I value this sense of place, I value above all else the people who made me call this house, Home.
Family, I have learned, is irreplaceable. No matter what I seem to do next I will always have them in my thoughts telling me to be bold, be brave, try new things, yet come home on occasion because I need it. It feels like diving into a pool and climbing out fresh and a new. This is home, it puts me back to simple settings and reminds me of my love for finding adventure, literature, activity, love, knowledge, and personality. When I was younger I tried just about everything: ballet, jazz, gymnastics, soccer, pottery, swimming, basketball, volleyball, language classes, Girl Scouts, culture clubs, etiquette classes, you name it I have tried it. I was always into something and my mom and dad were fortunate enough to involve me in these activities. As a family we traveled, took road trips, and saw extended family almost every week; I enjoy my busy schedule, and always look for something else to try.
My love of school is at the forefront of my childhood experience. I. LOVED. SCHOOL. I still do. I love when August came around and I was the first one in the store the next day when the ad was in the Sunday paper announcing that school supplies lists are posted. I promptly made my own list, my mom drove me to the store, and I march right over to the pencil aisle because I had the philosophy that you could not do school without the proper pencil. I lived to walk down the hall into my new classroom, I basked in the idea of studying for spelling tests, and I prepared to make the best planetary model anyone has ever seen. I continued to have this mind set in high school, and it has conveniently followed in my college experience. My parents gave me the blocks to build the person I am and aspire to be, and my brother inspires me to keep reaching my fullest potential with each passing day. All the decisions I make and will face will be with all that I have built through life so far. I am truly thankful for each passing second of the days allotted to this beautiful adventure.
This is important. This is where I start, and there is more to this story that will come. I will post about my ideas and mindful meanderings, so this is the basic, essential tool to my self-process.