Earlier this week I was over at my parents' house sorting through pictures for the blog. It was somewhat challenging because nearly every album was full of pictures of me. Yep, I'm the baby of the family and was pretty darn adorable. My mother laughed as she flipped page after page of my smiling mug and said, "You were the center of attention for a lotta years. Until Mitch came along."
Mitch. He was the first grandchild (and the only one for nearly eight years) and a super cute kid. I honestly didn't mind passing along the attention torch. He transformed my sister's life and it is obvious when you see them together that they have a strong bond. Mitch has a calmness about him, with a quiet, wry sense of humor and a huge heart.
My sister continued to second-mother me, but I certainly still needed it. She took me in when my roommates kicked me out of the house (that is a convoluted story and not blog appropriate; let's just say that sometimes I don't make good choices), and she kept me calm on my wedding day. I tried my best to be there for her when she needed me, even if it just meant making her laugh when life got her down.
Around the middle of this decade, I graduated from college, moved away, and got married. And then I moved again. And again. And again. And... (you get the idea - we were the traveling vans for sure back then!) Chrissy and Mitch came to visit me in Virginia and Washington; both trips served as much needed diversions for the lonely life of a military wife. I loved taking them around to see the sights and remember my sister remarking at how impressed she was at my ability to navigate in a new town year after year. (This is of course because she did not have to witness the previous attempts at navigation which involved much cursing and turning around in parking lots.) It was wonderful to have connections to home when I was far away.
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