I was almost home when I noticed some folks stuffing the last boxes that would fit into a moving van. As I wondered where that family would be heading next, memories came to mind of all the packing and unpacking that had accompanied my moves through the years.
Of course my parents took care of getting me situated into my first house in Kingsport, Tennessee. They had just built it and moved in a few months before I was born. The redwood L-shaped one-story had floor to ceiling windows in the living room and smooth stone floors that were great fun to speedily roller skate on with my brother David.
Since there was no basement, a hallway closet the full length of the house held our overflow. Sharing a room with my older sister Betty was alright for us both, as I spent most of my time outside swinging on the maple tree’s tire swing, picking apples and grapes that produced abundantly in our backyard, biking with my best friend Becky, and splashing in the tiny square cut-out in the patio’s concrete that we called our pool.
Two of the things I remember most about living there was the fragrance of Mom’s light pink roses that were trained to climb on a huge trellis over the sidewalk where I skated and jumped rope from patio to driveway and back again. And slurping down Dad’s giant juicy red tomatoes every summer, right off the vine.
When I left home for college, my parents moved to a treehouse cabin in the Gingercake Acres mountain neighborhood of North Carolina. They called it Luv-Crest, a combination of portions of their names Lovie and Creston. Getting back together with the whole family there for holidays was a treat and the views, especially in the Fall, were beautiful.
An apartment in Cincinnati and another in Indianapolis housed me until I transitioned into married life. Daughter Sara was born into a bright yellow nursery in our Mt. Lookout Tudor and grew up in two other homes in Northern Kentucky where I discovered a green thumb seems to run in our family.
My husband Chris and I made our own move to the mountains after the kids were grown up. Hiking a mile upward from the road between Pigeon Forge and Gatlinburg to our little cabin in the Smoky Mountain woods was a great wintery adventure. All seasons were awe-inspiring there.
I think leaving there was the hardest move to make and yet the best thing we ever did. Now we’re back in Northern Kentucky about 30 minutes away from all our children and grandchildren. We’re blessed to see them often, as you’ve learned from reading my past posts that have mentioned how our lives intersect in ways that bring me so much joy and delight!
Who could ask for anything more? There’s just about been no better move for us!
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I’d love to support you in meandering down your own memory lane of moves. Whether it’s the home itself or the moments you’ve shared with family and friendships you’ve made while there, there’s always “more to the story” than what a few photos or one jottings session can possibly capture. What moving memories would you like to start capturing today to add to your family’s mini-story collection?!
JOYfully jotting,
Katie
Family PhotoStory Organizer
Mini-Stories Writing Coach
Your Legacy of Memories Mentor
Capturing Moments That Matter…
Energizing & Connecting Families for Generations!