We’ve been in Zebulon a little over seven months now, and it’s starting to feel like home. We have certainly poured out our sweat and tears on this place. Past the age of 60, we are learning new things like ponds, salt-water pools, and zero-turn mowers. We have roughly three times as much grass to cut, so we added a zero-turn mower to our lawn care equipment. Cheryl wouldn’t get on it at first, but I puttered around the yard with it and managed to cut a little grass. I guess that was enough encouragement for her to think she couldn’t be any worse at it than me, so she gave it a try. It took her a little time to get the hang of it, but she now flies around the yard like a pro.
I am grateful that Jennifer got to be in our new home and spend her last few months in peace and quiet. Her bedroom was in the front of the house with a bay window looking out over flowers and the pond. I’m not sure how well she could see it, but we talked about it, and I believe she enjoyed it. The picture at the top is from her bedroom window.
There’s a similar view from another bay window in our dining room. Not long before Jennifer died, we had Cheryl’s mother, her sister, and a couple of her aunts over here for Sunday lunch. We had pushed Jennifer up to the table, and after we all sat down, Jennifer got the sense of all of us together in this new place, and the joy that shone from her was something to behold. She was so incredibly happy. I would not see her that happy again, but one day I will.
So, we are making memories here, and that’s what makes a place special. I can look out this same window or sit in that same dining room chair and remember those times because those places are basically the same. With my Dutchtown memories, there are places where I cannot do the same. Places where some of those memories were made are unrecognizable. Fields and houses have been replaced with businesses and parking lots. My brother-in-law Tom just posted a photo on Facebook of a sign announcing a major grocery store, and other shops are coming soon to my old stomping grounds. What little that remains of the old neighborhood will soon be gone.
But, the memories remain. That’s one of the reasons for this blog, to document some of those memories. I may have a few more tales to tell, but I think I’ve hit most of the high points. We’ll see where this thing goes, but it will undoubtedly go on longer if you’ll relay some of your memories to me. There are pieces of stories I’ve heard that y’all may know. I’m sure there are other stories I’ve never heard at all. If you will send them to me on Facebook or email me at donnie@jenjammar.com, I would love to read them.