June Gloom...not so much
It wasn't when my brother and his friend kicked our asses at beer pong on the deck. (And when I say kicked our asses, I mean SHUT. OUT. Oh, the pain. In our defense, we are old.)
It wasn't when I honestly and with all seriousness proclaimed (ALOUD) that the white beamer SUV was probably Kristin Cavallari and my brother, without mocking or laughing, simply answered, "There are a lot of those around here." It also wasn't when I squealed "THAT is where Marissa and Ryan hang out!!" as we passed the pier and he humored me with a slight nod.
It wasn't when we got lost caravanning our way across Pasadena to the Huntington Library only to discover it closed in 15 minutes. (At 4:30pm. Every. Day. Bogus.) And then had security guards watching our every move and informing us that we could not go further than patio. It's a GARDEN.
It wasn't when we were brunching on a very cozy, very vine-filled patio, sipping wine, mimosas, and my Moms very own "Virgin Mary." WhoWhat?
It wasn't when we split bananas and laughed about being perpetually early or when we held hands as we walked.
It wasn't when we shared pizza on my Brother's porch, a block away from the ocean and a half a block away from the bay, and marveled that it came with little packets of our family fave: crushed red pepper flakes.
It was when my father was finally, FINALLY, claiming his moment in the spotlight, hearing his name called, and walking across that stage to accept his well-earned doctorate degree when my Mom leaned over, rested her head against my shoulder and tearfully whispered, "Who would have thought? When I met him he was failing out of the University of Michigan. I'm so proud."
That was the moment that I knew.
No matter where we are, my family is my home.
It wasn't when I honestly and with all seriousness proclaimed (ALOUD) that the white beamer SUV was probably Kristin Cavallari and my brother, without mocking or laughing, simply answered, "There are a lot of those around here." It also wasn't when I squealed "THAT is where Marissa and Ryan hang out!!" as we passed the pier and he humored me with a slight nod.
It wasn't when we got lost caravanning our way across Pasadena to the Huntington Library only to discover it closed in 15 minutes. (At 4:30pm. Every. Day. Bogus.) And then had security guards watching our every move and informing us that we could not go further than patio. It's a GARDEN.
It wasn't when we were brunching on a very cozy, very vine-filled patio, sipping wine, mimosas, and my Moms very own "Virgin Mary." WhoWhat?
It wasn't when we split bananas and laughed about being perpetually early or when we held hands as we walked.
It wasn't when we shared pizza on my Brother's porch, a block away from the ocean and a half a block away from the bay, and marveled that it came with little packets of our family fave: crushed red pepper flakes.
It was when my father was finally, FINALLY, claiming his moment in the spotlight, hearing his name called, and walking across that stage to accept his well-earned doctorate degree when my Mom leaned over, rested her head against my shoulder and tearfully whispered, "Who would have thought? When I met him he was failing out of the University of Michigan. I'm so proud."
That was the moment that I knew.
No matter where we are, my family is my home.
posted by Tilly at 2:30 PM
2 Comments:
Tilly! What a great story! How are you??????????
- Sociable
congrats to your father!!! you must be so proud!!! xo
-cmh
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