I have talked about my love for the steps in my past that connect me to my family.
It matters not what the steps have since become...the steps in Fossil of my great, great grandparents have been lovingly restored...the steps in Upper Lake have been torn down and are but a memory.
Just seeing the steps or thinking of them can instantly transport me back.
When the kidnicks were small, I was the crazy mom who made them "Sit down and Smile!"
Now, that craziness they saw, has been replaced with a kind of pride, I think.
To be connected in a tangible way to their past.
It might just be they realize that the faster they smiled, the faster they could get on with the day.
But I like to think they get it.
I have driven past my Mom's house in Santa Maria nearly every time I pass through the town.
My youngest even knows where her childhood friend Jimmy lived.
When we decided that we would be attending the Festa in Santa Maria recently, I knew it would be a good time to add a photo to our step collection.
The house used to be bright white with black trim and a yard that was impeccable.
Today, it is different.
Cement replaces the grass and brown covers the pristine white.
As I watched Chris knock on the door and with his sister, in broken Spanish, explain that this used to be their great grandma's house and could we take a quick photo on the steps,
I saw my sister and I running from the front door, across the street to play on the elementary school playground.
I could smell the scent of their pantry and its cork board covered door...
...the sawdust in the garage that was Granddad's workshop in which he made much of the furniture I have now.
I remembered calling the library from Granddad's office and listening to a recorded story...over and over again.
It all came back.
Entering the house or back yard would have changed that.
The steps are enough to take me back.
And as I watched my two eldest spreading the craziness of steps to the current residents, I
that this means something to them as well.