Life is funny. My great-grandmother, by whose house my house now stands, lived almost all of her life in this small Texas town where I now live. In fact, she died in the house next door while my youngest brother sat outside in 1968 and listened to his grandmother cry at the loss of her mother. It was the same year we lost our own mother. What a trying year for all. What’s strange to me, however, is that her husband, my great-grandfather, passed away in 1949, two years after my birth, and it felt to me as though he never existed. That he had lived and died in some long ago time. While it seemed my great-grandmother had lived for ages and had always been with me.

Clothes and cups are how I remember my trips around and across America. This morning I’m wearing a light, zipup sweatshirt hoodie I bought on a trip in 2015 to Rochester and it’s replacing my usual fleece jacket that I bought on a trip to Kansas City to watch my brother-in-law retire from the Air Force. Also, I’m drinking coffee from my Wall Drugstore Mug (South Dakota in case you didn’t know). The mugs are purpose bought mementos. The clothes are usually reminders that I was ill prepared for the weather, although to be fair, I do find clothes an appealing way to remember concerts and trips.

The sun came out from behind the clouds yesterday and that was a big improvement to the day, to the week, and to my psyche. I’m not a huge fan of the early months of the year. They’re just too dark, short, and cold. When I still worked, I can remember entire days without sun. I’d go to the office in the dark and come home after dark. Depressing.  Which I suppose is why in my retirement I try to clutter up the early months with things to do and places to go. I’m chasing away the blues.