Because my father was in the Air Force, when I was little, we moved around. A lot. Between each move and for almost every summer vacation I can remember when were were stationed in the states, my dad would pack my mom, my sisters and me up in the station wagon and we would make the two or three day drive to Indiana to visit our family. My parents were the only siblings on both sides of our family that had moved away from Indiana at the time, so the homecoming was always joyous and very, very loud.
I loved this time.
I loved seeing all our family. I loved that everyone made time to get together whenever we visited. I loved the sleep-overs with my cousins and playing dress up in my grandmothers' clothes. I loved going to church where everyone remembered my parents from when they were small. I loved the stories and especially the tall tales. I loved the pillow fights with my grandfather in the living room and learning about yiayia and papou's courtship in the old country. I loved the kibee and the spanakopita and the bread, oh, how I loved the homemade bread!
There are so many memories, but what I realize most when I look back is how incredibly special these times were. How lucky I was to have so many cousins, so many aunts and uncles, and that our families were so close even though we lived so far away.
How lucky I was that even though we lived far away, my parents valued family and made sure that we knew ours. How lucky I was that all of my grandparents lived for so very long.
But mostly, how lucky I was as a child to be surrounded by so much... love.
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