As I rode a bike down the two-mile stretch of country road to Grandma Cathy's this afternoon on a perfectly wonderful spring day in Illinois, I got to thinking about the particularly memorable times I've made that trip:
- The years when I was old enough to ride a bike by myself but not old enough to drive. Many summer days involved back-and-forths to Grandma's and Grandpa's for milkshakes, lemonade, ice cream, or just conversation.
- Whenever I got sick and mom was working I'd head down the road. This included a two-day stretch in college after a brief hospital stint and when I came down with the flu my junior year in high school, stopping at home just long enough to pick up my pillow before showing up so pathetically on her doorstep.
- After arguing with my mom at the age of 9 or 10 (I was a strong-willed child), I decided to run away from home. I packed my little suitcase and Mom found me walking down the road halfway between our house and theirs. I'm pretty sure if I had made it all the way there that I would have just been taken home, but they may have fed me first.
- With our entire bridal party on our wedding day (four years ago tomorrow) when we played croquet and took pictures by an old barn and enjoyed a low-key celebration in the midst of wedding-day chaos with some of our favorite people in the world.
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