Sunday, August 13, 2017

New adventures, Life Journey's, Family Legacies @tdanielsauthor

Hi there! Welcome Back! As it often does, life ramped up and I’ve missed a few posts. I apologize. As you know there have been some exciting things going on in the Daniels household recently.

 The kids have moved out, and Mr. D and I have sold the tiny little townhouse in Orangeville and purchased some acreage on the outskirts of town. Soon, we’ll be surrounded by ten acres of conservation, a pond and horse ranches. I’m a country girl; I don’t thrive as well in the city. Nature is where I draw my energy from, and this will be the perfect place for me to get back to writing. Mr. D has always wanted property out in the country and this is perfect timing as he begins to gear down for retirement. It’s a win/win for both of us.

As I was sitting down and thinking about what I wanted to share with you today, I started thinking about how quickly we became empty nesters and how much I miss my kids. I love them all. I love Mr. D.’s kids as if they were my own. Although, I am very excited for the next phase of my life with Mr. D, the transition hasn’t been very easy for me. As we all know, I’m an emotional mess at the best of times when it comes to family. The house is quiet now; too quiet. I miss making dinner together and discussing our days. I miss adjusting the volume on my TV to try and drown out the surround sound from the basement. I even miss walking into the house and trying to avoid tripping over eight pairs of shoes. My dad and I were very close, and I find myself wondering how he managed when, as a young adult, I decided to leave the nest and start my own adventure. My dad was the kind of man who seldom
voiced his opinions or engaged in long discussions regarding life. His actions, most often, spoke louder than his words. He never told me that he missed me, but he often would ‘pop in’ to bring me grocery items that were ‘on sale’ that week or bring me lunch when he knew I was working long
shifts, or coaching back to back soccer games. There were times when mysterious bank envelopes of cash would show up in my purse. I never told him when I was struggling, he just knew. Yesterday, we took a break from work and from packing to enjoy a wonderful visit with Mr. D’s sister and her son. After dinner, while sitting around a small fire in the backyard we began to talk to about family and legacies. Mr. D’s nephew shared with us a story from his younger years when he and the family were on a drive and became lost. They found themselves at a little apple orchard off the beaten path and what was meant to be a stop to ask for directions, unintentionally turned into a day that remains in his mind as one of his favorite ‘misadventures’. He then told us that when he has a family of his own, he will plan apple picking adventures and share with them the cherished childhood memory.

 I started to think about my own childhood memories, and the story I have most often shared with my own children. My dad, the strong silent type, was a plumbing salesman. His territory covered a lot of the west and northern parts of Ontario, which often took him out of town for very long days and sometimes overnight. When I was young, I was always excited for school to end for the summer because that was when my dad would let me travel with him one some of those trips. For some kids, long trips in the car may have been a nightmare without the present day addition of DVD screens and wifi. For me, the trips were never long enough. The winding roads and beautiful scenery of the regions of Parry Sound and Bracebridge seemed to pass by way too quickly. I always knew that somewhere along our journey there would be a stop planned to pull over on the shoulders of the highway and climb the rocky hills to pick blueberries. Sometimes he'd forget to bring a container to put them in, so we would sit on the rocks and eat as many as we could. He seldom said much, (surprise) but almost always got us back on the road by telling me we better get going before we were attacked by bears. lol It was many years into my adult life before I figured out that they were not just magical moments of pulling over and stumbling on blueberry bushes. Blueberries are hard to find in those areas. I’m not sure if he spent hours when he was on his own, searching those rocky hills for bushes so he’d know where to stop… or perhaps he just planted them there himself so that we’d have some to pick. Either way, it’s one of those memories that will stay with me forever. I often talk about living your life so it’s a story worth telling, but even more importantly, I now think we need to live our lives so others will remember us. My dad has been gone for many years, yet he is in my thoughts every day. It’s not for his wise words of advice. He seldom lectured or had strong opinions; he never got involved in family gossip or drama. My dad listened, my dad gave his time, and my dad SHOWED me his love. I’m not sure, if he planned it, or if he innocently and unknowingly created some wonderful legacies for me. And so, like Mr. D’s nephew, I plan on passing on those legacies.
 I’ll plan on getting all the family together for big thanksgiving dinners. I will always celebrate Christmas as if I’m viewing it through the eyes of a small child. And when Mr. D and I move in to our new home in the country in a few weeks, to honor the memory of my dad, we’ll be planting blueberry bushes in the back property.
When our grandchildren come to visit, we’ll take them for a walk in the country with a basket or two and share our memories, our time and our love. Hopefully when we’re both long gone from this world, our children and grandchildren will be left with memories of not just things we’ve said, but things we’ve done, WITH THEM.

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1 comment:

  1. Beautiful words, my friend. Family is everything, those that we are related to and those we choose. <3