I’ve had a day full of reminiscing about home.
Our fellow Lincolnite friends, the Ebbers, are here for the weekend, and we invariably, in the course of our many conversations, end up telling stories or talking about people from back home, which always sends my mind in a spin of pictures and memories.
I read today on journalstar.com that Jones Coffee at 11th and G had been sold and was switching hands. 😦 I loved that place — I’d often walk there with Jones in the sling or the stroller to get a little afternoon reprieve with a caffienated beverage. Bryan and I loved the owners and would chat it up with them. When we went home in December, I never had the time to stop by — I’m sad its changing and I never knew my last time there was my absolute last time there. Such is life, I suppose.
I saw some pics of my little guy that Molly had taken when he was still fat-cheeked and straight-haired. He looked so much a like a baby and it reminded me of living at 9th & E, the things he did and the ways we laughed, how much he’s changed, become such a big boy now.. oh my, I’m ready to hold another babe in my arms and watch him grow!
I read about a trip to a farmer’s market at Soulemama, and remembered its ‘that season’ in Lincoln, too. I loved getting up early, walking the 9 or 10 blocks with B, little J in his stroller, and buying coffee from the Mill first thing. Then we’d wander around, chatting with friends we ran into, always making a stop at the Amish baked goods stand for my CINNAMON ROLL (woop!), and generally enjoy the people-filled haymarket, knowing that the day would feel full and blessed because we started it early and with good coffee.
Lincoln memories seem to surface the most in springtime, for some reason. They are pleasant, but they always make me want to go home.. which I can’t and I won’t. And the memories are of living in a place — of daily life and cultivating community, things a two week or even two month visit can’t accomplish.
Lord, turn these memories into thankfulness and fuel to make good memories in the moment.