Tales of the Ordinary Days

Old Guy and me We did it. Somehow, someway...with a lot of help from a lot of wonderful people, we got my father-in-law moved out of his long-time home in Monterey, Indiana. I flew in last Monday to assist with the move. Larry and I 'flew out' today, via our packed vehicles and a stuffed U-Haul trailer. Oh what a week. Let me start by saying that I have never met Larry's mom, Mabel, nor have I met the prior owner of his house, Agnes. But I now feel like we are intimately acquainted and I am grateful for the experience. I have also relived the years of Larry's ex's and Garrett's ex through the house cleansing process. Photos, cards, memorabilia from trips...you name it, I've been through it. As Larry and I reflected over wine and steak tonight, so much of our journey is lived in a home. A journey full of people who have walked by our side. The home being the ultimate holder of these memories. Now I need to digress a bit on Mabel and Agnes and the m...

Day 12 | 30 Days of Writing In text exchanges with my father-in-law, Larry, I often get this response when I ask what he is doing... "Porch time!" I had never heard this phrase before, but totally get it. For him, it means sitting on the porch late afternoons with neighbors. Watching the cars go by, possibly enjoying a libation, and taking in the action of a small town. This was no different from my days growing up in my small town. Most homes in Remsen had porches, many with porch swings or rocking chairs, either the wood or iron models. And walking through the town meant waving to the occupants of these outdoor posts. The picture above that showed up on my FaceBook feed is a mirror to my childhood memory. When visiting my Grandma Gib, she had an enclosed porch where we often sat and talked about whatever struck our fancy. At the farm of my other grandparents, we skipped the fancy chairs and just sat on the cement step of the porch. We spent many summe...

A country mile run on mile 2 I have a confession to make. I cried. I cried really hard. The ugly kind where my face scrunched up as I wailed like an inconsolable toddler. It was as Garrett and I sat down to dinner a week ago. My brother, Matt, had left the day before to begin his new life in Arizona. It was a few days before that when my dear friend, Angelique, moved to North Dakota to start the new chapter of her life. The hard realization was setting in that I was just weeks away from Grant moving to Colorado and life never feeling the same to me. My impending empty nest was feeling like an empty heart. So many emotions over so many changes. And although all these changes are good things, great things really, I still cried. "What do I have to be sad about?" I continued to ask myself as I fought the tears away while making dinner. But I didn't win the fight. With my loving, sweet husband sitting across from me at the dinner table and asking  the simple quest...

Larry, my town tour guide Day two of our Thanksgiving road trip lacked roads and travel. This was our 'packing and preparing' day. We stayed stationary, enjoying the ambiance of small town living. The setting was Monterey, Indiana. I am told the current population is 125. But in it's heyday, the count topped 250. Much has changed in these thirty years from it's peak, I've been told. The grocery store and butcher are gone, but the corner bar and post office remain. My day started with a 6 am wake up call from my father-in-law, Larry. I had promised to join him for his morning coffee at the local tavern. This was his daily routine and I gladly tagged along. The promise of freshly brewed coffee at a bar was both alluring and inviting. Corner Tavern at far right, end corner As we walked through the streets of Monterey, Larry updated me on the buildings still in use and those long gone. The latest casualty, following the migration out of Monterey to neighbo...