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{From the Archives} It Started with a Handkerchief

It was late-February and I was seven months pregnant with Blakely, battling a nasty case of allergies while out running errands with my dad and a little two-year old Preslie.  It was one of those days where nothing was going right.  I was miserable from both pregnancy and allergies when suddenly I was in dire need of a Kleenex.  And of course, I could not find one anywhere in the car.  I began scouring my purse and everywhere else when Poppy pulled the car over and said, 

"Will my handkerchief do?"  

While he was searching his back pocket, I was soaking in that small question with childhood memories flooding back.  My daddy ALWAYS had a handkerchief in his pocket.  Whether a casual day in jeans or dressed up in a suit, whether a slight spill, or someone needing to blow their nose, he could always pull out his nifty handkerchief and save the day.  It's little things like this in life that you cherish.  I bet we put my daddy's handkerchiefs through the ringer back when we were growing up as tots:  ketchup smeared about our faces, slimy noses, drinks knocked over, and I am sure countless tears.

Not long later, we found ourselves heading down this road in what would surely be considered "old town Southlake" now.  Nestled within a booming neighborhood of multi-million dollar homes, one can find this 1960's ranch style home tucked away on seven acres of land, still surrounded by the white barnyard fence in which my dad so carefully maintained beginning back in 1983 when we moved to the good ole heartland of Southlake, Texas.  


Driving up alongside this home filled us with memories.  We drove back and forth, started and stopped, and even went to a neighborhood behind the home to see the back. We relished in memories. I was roughly Preslie's age when we moved in, with a hot to trot three year old sister back in 1983.  My parents had been married for five years and decided to move from North Dallas out to the "country" for some peace and quiet.  They found themselves some land, the perfect home, and from their the memories flourished.  From a full on vegetable and fruit garden, to cattle and horses, chickens, and a tool shed, a hand built tree house, hammocks and rainbow colored snakes (ahem, sister)...and my favorite, the wrap around porch with white Victorian spindles.  Stormy nights were always in full effect, a tree even sliced in half one night by fiery lightening, sunsets and sunrises that couldn't be beat, a small fishing pond, homemade peach ice cream and crickets chirping in the night.  Hot, summer days with two little panty-only girls running through sprinklers chased by the dogs while their mother and daddy enjoyed sweet tea and a beer.  Cold, frosty winters with the aroma of freshly frosted home made sugar cookies in the wintertime.  Friday nights at the local 3A Dragon Stadium where football was fighting fiercely through the fall as the team was notorious for back to back trips to State, and one special little girl was making the crowd giggle dressed in her little dragon costume while running up and down the bleachers as her sister swooned all the elementary boys under the bleachers.  

Life was so beautiful.  So perfect.  So simple.   We have countless pictures and videos of our years spent over on that quiet street, and despite these boring sick-filled days of now, I am filled completely with happiness and warm thoughts remembering my childhood.  In fact, I think today might be the perfect day to sit downstairs combing through the DVD's of our memories at 1360 Sunshine Lane with one of my dads handkerchiefs in hand. 

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