My Dad was in the Air Force - so we traveled and moved from house to house while I was growing up. 13 different schools, 3 countries, 4 states. When my Dad finally retired and settled into civilian life - they bought a house in the late 70s and they lived there for 20 years. It is the only house that I can call home even though I didn't live in it very long before I headed off to college. It was my parent's home. It is why a home is so important to me.
We used to call my Dad - the concrete king. He was always landscaping and putting in patios and sidewalks and garden walls. Somewhere in that back yard in a wall is a time capsule that my Dad, brothers and I buried years ago. Needless to say, he put in his share of concrete in the new house. One day, he gave me this bucket of concrete to do some repairs to our sidewalk in front of our house where there were broken or missing pieces. I went out in front and fixed the sidewalk and in one of them I signed my initials in the concrete. Anytime I go visit the old neighborhood, I look to see if my initials are still there. It's nice to think that some things don't change or are more permanent. The initials are there - along with some debris and the sidewalk needs to be edged and weeded. They are there and somehow that is re-assuring. It's the same thing in life, sometimes you need to know that the person you were is still there despite the cobwebs and baggage.
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