The things we remember

I am going to venture to say when children are growing up they don’t really remember the stuff they had.

I don’t.

I do remember going to work with my dad during the summers, heading to Miami Beach in his yellow irrigation van, listening to oldies on the way, the smelly blue glue, that I loved, he would use to hold PVC pipes together, and eating cup of noodles with the boiled water he’d bring in a thermos and as we would eat we would talk about nothing and everything all at the same time.

I do remember my mom getting me ready for trick or treating when she got home from work. She would let me get a pillow case and after being at work all day she’d walk from house to house in the neighborhood letting me get candy from the neighbors always making sure I said thank you. She didn’t have to take me, but every year she did because - and now I know this - she knew I looked forward to it.

I do remember my oldest sister coming over right after work to go rollerblading with me almost every day. We’d go all around the neighborhood looking for coke bottle caps to see if we could find one that said we got a free coke and then we would rollerblade up to the local gas station and get our free coke. Yea, we could have just bought one, but that was our adventure.

I do remember driving with my 2nd oldest sister, turning on the radio and singing at the top of our lungs, to a song we both loved. I don’t know where we were going but I do remember getting there was a blast. Just us, two nuts, singing off key with no cares in the world.

It’s not the stuff… it’s the memories. It’s the adventures.

To them 🥂

♥️

-Vee

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