things that stick with you.

I went to Indiana a few weeks ago to visit my parents and family. (Longest drive ever by yourself with a 2 year old and a nursing 8 month old in tow. Like, 13 hours with kids long. I must be crazy). I visited with my 86 year old Grandpa while in town. He’s still very self sufficient. He makes himself breakfast every day, attends mass, visits with old friends at his favorite watering hole. He doesn’t drive much. My dad’s four sisters take him where he needs to go. He watches baseball (the Yankees are his beloved) on a daily basis. He has had some health issues, but not many for a man his age. The house he lives in has been his home for 50 years. It housed a rambunctious crew of 7 children. All sharing one bathroom with no shower, mind you. My grandmother’s things are still scattered throughout. Cat figurines, ashtrays, perfume bottles in their bedroom. She’s been gone 6 years. It would be odd for her things to not be there. He doesn’t seem unhappy. Tired and a bit lonely, more than anything. There are so many little things that I love about that house.
This window is at the top of the staircase. When I was a little girl, I would put this curtain over my head and pretend it was veil. It’s such a distinct memory.

My grandmother loved cats. They always had one. A quote from my Grandpa, “People always think I don’t like cats. That’s not true. Hell, we had a hundred of them!”

There’s a picture above the one I cut off, as well. My dad is second from the bottom. He was a bit of a shit.

These are all things that stick with me when I have to leave Indiana.
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