Ridiculous!

Yesterday, Robert said this to me: "Hey, I forgot to tell you that I met Prince Harry while I was in London."  He forgot!!!???  Seriously????!!  I would have texted 20 of my closest friends, taken a million photos, sold his location to some paparazzi, and e-bayed his autograph all in the time it took Robert to remember to tell me.  Crazy.

Anyway, while Robert was rubbing shoulders with the His Royal Highness, the rest of us spent some time in Utah and Idaho visiting Grandparents and Great-Grandmas.

This picture was taken at my Grandma Lee's house.  I used to jump off that shed in the background with a rope and swing like Tarazan.  

I have so many fantastic memories of this field.  We used to climb hay bales, have bonfires, and my Grandpa built a couple of tree houses for us to play in.

Jackson being Jackson.

Max had a good time playing dress-ups with Cousin Addie. 

The tallest tower in the history of blocks.  We had to take a picture to record this momentous achievement.

This was kind of a sad trip for me.  It was full of reminders that life changes quickly.  My Grandma no longer lives on her beautiful property.  She is 89 years old.  Her house and belongings are being sold so that her children can afford to keep taking care of her.  My Mom and I went through some of her things.  I put notes on items that mean something to me expressing my interest in them.  We went through a bunch of old, old books that belonged to my Grandpa.   Books that he stored in the garage and that are the background of many of my memories of him.  We were always looking for some tool or talking to him or watching him work at his bench out in that garage.  He was a carpenter by trade and he was always building something for one of his grandchildren.  It was exciting for me to look through these old books most of which are dated in the early 1900's.  Many of them were gifts from my ancestors to another ancestor--a Great, great, great (maybe?) Grandma to a Great, great Aunt.  People who have been buried for a long time and that I never knew. They were names on a paper that once belonged to real people that lived, loved and read books.  It was sad to me to think that my Grandparents will be that to my children.  They will probably remember my Grandmas but they will not remember my Grandpas.  They won't get squeezed by my Grandpa Lee and feel his big, strong hands in theirs.  He won't ever call them "Sis" or tell them his war stories.    They won't roll their eyes or giggle when my Grandpa Hayes declares that, "He'll lead the singing." They won't hear him sing his silly songs or hear him snore.  It was emotional for me to realize that I may never set foot in the house that my Grandparent's built and raised their children in and played with their grandchildren in-- ever again. It's the end of an era.  It's the loss of those who are beloved.  I hope that whomever buys the house lives and loves as much as I did there and someday feels its loss as keenly as I do.