A few weeks ago I had the chance to go back to a place I love. A place that was very much a part of my life for almost 22 years. In fact one of the saddest and hardest days of my life is when I left here and never thought I could come back. My husband gave me that chance, who says you can't go home again? My family's place on Lake Travis was a piece of property that my grandfather bought in 1950 for his future family to enjoy. Like I did, my mother and her three sisters grew up here in the warm summer months. When his children (my aunts) got married he gave them each a piece of his land to build a hose on for their family. I remember learing how to ski at the age of three, hanging out on top of the dock looking for meteor showers, family reuions, riding four across with tubes behind Uncle Don's boat, smashing my face in on Dave's jet-ski, late nights of watching our parents play dominoes, and the sad moment I learned we had to sell it. Two weeks ago chris rented out the houses from their current owners for his youth winter retreat. Three months ago I was estatic, and as the trip drew closer I started to lose sleep over the decision. Through my tears I was able to step back into time to a place I still love. Leaving wasn't as hard this time, but I still cried. I was also greatful that Chris finally was able to see where all of my family's stories come from. The curtains on the windows were still the same, as was the furniture and the dishes we left behind, but it wasn' mine anymore. The houses stood their like empty memories of the past, reminders of what I couldn't have anymore. As I drove away I tried not to look back in my rear-view mirror and tried to look forward to making new memories that mean as much to me.
