Rosalie Road

I measure my life not in years or age, but rather by what state I lived in.

When did I learn to ride a bike?

     When I lived in Ohio.

When did I get my license?

     When I lived in Virginia.

When did I get my first job?

     When I lived in Alaska.

I have also never returned to a state I lived in, until last summer's Williamsburg trip with my husband. I don't have what some people have called roots. We moved and that was life. I loved it and am thankful for it.

I can be very nostalgic too, so when we were only an hour from one of my childhood homes last weekend, we decided to make the drive out of our way to see it.

I remembered it immediately.

We lived in this house while I was 5-10 years old. So many memories.


I had a dog named Jake who played hide and seek with me.
I got a new baby sister at this house.
We had a scavenger hung one year for my birthday where I got a hot pink bike with a radio.
We watched TGIF every week in this home.
We played in the snow, collected rolly pollies, and went to VBS here.
I walked up and down a huge hill to get to school.

This school...or a variation of this school twenty five years ago.

Where I went to Kindegarten.
Danced to a rap version of multiplication facts.
Was a safety monitor. (I know dorky.)
and walked under a see saw where I cracked my head and had to get a butterfly bandage.

God blessed me with an incredible childhood. We had adventures all the time. I want the same for my girls. I hope that there are only a couple of houses in their history, but however many their are I hope they can look back on their childhood with as much fondness as I do.