Here is a story of the childhood memory from my oldest grandchild, Breanna Miller. While it is a little long for a Facebook post, it conveys the memories of a child for the special place of her Nani and Papa Bear’s home in the desert. Reading it made this “old bear” weep for joy at the privelege of being part of a family, for memories of times and places Marilyn and I have inhabited, and for being related to this special young woman. Enjoy, Darrow “As we were navigating our way through traffic I glanced to the right not realizing the familiarity of the road we were on. Shocked and breath strucken I no longer saw that familiar bumpy driveway and old house that represented a time of peace, bliss, and ignorance. A time before complications, divorce, and never ending drama.I recognized the area but this place was missing key elements which confused me. How could this place be the right one without our creaky treehouse that had all the grandkids handprints? How could it be right without the homemade seesaw that Papa made for my aunt’s birthday? And I was positive that if I were to look inside I would not see the door with the heights of generations marked on the worn down office door. I was certain I wouldnt find the playroom with the huge cupboard that was the golden hiding spot for hide and go seek even though it was the first place the seeker would look. It was different and the symbol of my childhood was gone. Not only was this place full of memories but it was a place where the absence of parents meant freedom and infinite possibilities. This was the place where Nani reigned queen and all the parents voices were mute. How could a place so special and important be squashed as though it had no relevance to the world?” “I refrained from asking my dad to pull over because during my own moment of shock, I realized that he was describing his own childhood memories of brotherly fights resulting in countless holes being punched in the wall. Reminiscing about dinners with enough spaghetti to feed eight normal people but hardly enough for three growing teenage boys. Laughing at the endless sibling rivalries and how they knew exactly how to get under each others skin. Then I realized that not only was this place important to me but also the the other family members of mine. Their traditions weren’t purely mine. They had been passed down with years of tweaking and adjusting to perfection. Traditions were created such as decorating Christmas cookies and having fondue (made by only manly men) every Christmas with hot apple cider. Although this place seemed like the foothold on our family, it was only a place. We were still the same crazy, loving family. We’ve accumulated a few new members throughout the years but it wasnt the house that made us a family. We still had all of the same memories and traditions, hopefully those would never fade away, but there was a reassurance with the same excitement and glitter in my dads eyes that let me know that they would not die away. Those memories would not be given up and those traditions would stay the same and with future generations the Millers will forever grow. In that moment in time I was able to look forward and see the bigger picture. When we passed that house I get to remember and smile at all that we have come to and grown to since. The Millers were as strong and tough as bears and with that loving and protective nature we would go far.” Breanna Miller
Posted on: Wed, 04 Dec 2013 11:48:57 +0000
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