I would not be who I am today if it was not for my children. Sure life molds you in so many ways, but children are a breath of fresh air! Laughs! Oh the screw ups you make as a parent are worth the laugh on their own.
Memories are what keep us going. Our heart grows in so many ways through loss. Not the path we would chose, but not our choice. You can go back through my post this week. Her birthday memorial of sorts. You will see every year that passes I am able to handle things that are thrown at me in life. I still cry, but losing my grandparents with in six months apart in 1994 was my first brush with loss. Seeing their home as seen below still sitting their, all the memories, but mamaw nor granddad Akin would answer the door if I were to go up and ring the door bell. That is hard to deal with. I spent so many years in their living room of 1305 Long Avenue, Fort Wort, Texas. I lived with my parents in the trailer in the backyard when I was born.
I no longer live in Texas, but my soul still wanders, follows small puffy white clouds that dot Texas skies reminding us of so many things, like tumbleweeds and mesquite trees dotting long dusty and hot highways (Bryan, already in a poem I wrote)...
I took a trip to Texas last summer, a journey to re-visit my roots, something I was running from for years, and I liked what I found. I not only found a family lineage of Tennessee heritage, but I found a voice for my poetry. I am now embracing my southern drawl. I let Ya'll slip out, a little hint of who I really am.
I look forward to taking a journey through your memories, and I hope you enjoy mine...
I am proud of this shot above (I made her pose)- My dad's only sister/sibling, Aunt Earlene in front of Mammaw Estil's house, or where it used to be. She has dementia, and this was a good memory lane day for her. A neighbor bought the house; it was falling down, so they left the walkway, and first steps of the front porch. They planted a garden to honor the couple that occupied this farm for over 70 plus years.
My father's mom never quite got over her mother's death, and I remember her reflecting the loss when we were in her garden collecting fresh beef steak tomatoes.
My grandfather called himself an inventor, and a poet. History of Scot-Irish immigrants in the Appalachian Mountains called them tinkerers. He built glider planes, and had a fascination with birds since childhood. My grandmother sewed the canvas coverings for them. He would have the residents of Breckenridge Texas help him push it off Metcalf Gap, Texas. To the left is a valley. He never crashed here. Earl T. Akin did however crash and killed his partner in the old barnstorming/wing walking days of the 1920's. He never like to talk about it, but an uncle would bring it up as they bragged about his accomplishments. My grandparents were deeply in love and you would see them kiss each other all the time. More of a loving peck.
My fathers family all lived to be in their nineties, and passed in their sleep, Granddad was 99 when he passed...
I never knew my great grandparents, only their nine children, including my grandfather, Earl. I remember visiting Aunt Mytle's farm, fishing, rattle snakes on the end of her pitch fork, and her in a dress while she supported a flashy pair of cowboy boots. She was a hoot, and the only girl. This is the Akin homestead property still owned by my uncle John Ed. "You might not want to walk the property without a good pair of boots, and a snake kit close by", my uncle said to me as I took off towards the lake to see if I remember my first six pound catfish on the end of a fishing pole, and the jack rabbits that would jump in front of our car. Out came the shotgun as my father shot with precision at the nights menu entree to the rattle snake appetizer. Taste like chicken!
Just down the road, on hundreds of acres of dusty west Texas soil is a cemetery, Post Oak. There are uncles, and aunts, cousins, relatives through marriage buried. Most of them lived through the Great Depression, and were true 'Hillbillies', as oil was found on the land, but they still lived frugal. A few miles down the main drag in Breckenridge is the cemetery my parents, and immediate relatives are buried, and they are as follows.
My aunt stands in front of the Akin section of my fathers family. I am torn in whether to be buried her with my daughters ashes. Hubby is not so fond of these parts... This is the son of the youngest Akin brother who came over from Ireland and started it all in Texas...
My Daughters, Anelisa Remembrance Piece
On the sidebar is a 'Camera' that leads to the other My Town Blogger Friday Shoot Outs, and you can join if you would like; it is fun to share shots of the town we live in as well as sharing themes such as this!