Behold the Jones girls circa Kindergarten. That's right. Grandma Walker made this little gold dress for Mama Jones (complete with an identical miniature dress for her doll) and each one of the Jones children wore it. (Can you guess which one is me?) Thank goodness they didn't have a son. That would have been sad for him. Wearing a dress to school and all.
On my way to work this morning my mind was wandering as it does, and I realized that this month it has been exactly 10 years since the family move from California to Sin City. From the days when we would harvest the grapes in the church owned vineyards each summer and lay them out to dry. (That's right, we lived in the raisin capital). And then ate grapes until we were sick. Since the time that we lived an equidistance between the Websters and the Harmons, and enjoyed many midnight walks between our houses. From the time that Jess and Rachel's boyfriends and boy-friends would come over merely to visit Mom. Because she is beautiful and cool. When Kip from the famed Napoleon Dynamite and friends would dig holes in the front yard for her new tree, or help her make brownies. Back when Nina and I shared a room, and I would run a piece of tape down the middle to divide our cleaning responsibilities. Only to throw my stuff on her side when she wasn't looking. In the days that I was consumed by episodes of pink leotards with patterned undies peaking out from underneath. Leg-warmers and ribbon-dancing. And dance instructors who confessed that they had never seen such a creative dancer. When our foster sister Diana lived with us, and treated me like gold. When Fritz the mutt was still around for the first 17 years of my life. When Dad would take us camping up by the boy scouts, and we would sing around the campfire. And wake us early in the morning to go fishing because he forgot to get a fishing license once again and would fish vicariously through his children.
From the days at Clovis High where I was painfully shy and unabashedly quirky in my dress. (I was really eccentric sometimes....at least that's how I remember it).
That all seems a world away now. But has played a major part in who I am today. I am glad that I have been able to hold on to pieces of that time. And a few choice people who made it what it was.
3 comments:
aw, man, those were the days! I love telling people that I picked grapes...it makes me feel like a "real" california girl. Remember "get the phone, I mean the door"...the amazing remake of Cinderella. That was great. love my Clovis memories, too, and I am glad that you were a part of them!
Thanks for the trip down memory lane...funny how little events coincide. I came home from a rare full day of work yesterday to find that very dress, which has been in the recesses of H and L's closet for some time, lying on the nightstand. I was quite relieved that the babysitters didn't actually let Hannah WEAR it to PLAY in, which was her plan. It will go on for the picture (pretty soon, I imagine), and be promptly removed before it gets covered with grape juice stains!!
I miss California.
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