Today has been an emotional day.
Today my family attended the funeral of a beloved uncle, brother-in-law, father, grandfather, veteran and all around good man who will be greatly missed.
All of you know the emotions and feelings tied to days like this, so I am just going to leave it at that and discuss a much different loss--that while it pales in comparison to the loss in my family, it still has had an impact--one that honestly caught me by surprise.
While I was chillin' out with my bloggy buddies on Saturday for our uber-FREEZE-O-RAMA (more on that on Tuesday), Facebook let me know that my home town (the one I was headed towards that night for the funeral) had caught fire.
Until I got down there, that was pretty much all I knew.
Not really sure what a "town on fire" meant, I really didn't know what I thought beyond "Man, that is awful."
Around midnight that night I ended up driving next to the rubble as my family was making its way to my childhood home.
I was in awe.
I was sad.
I was flooded with memories.
I have been melancholy ever since.
I realize to many, it is just a building--historical at that-- but a building none-the-less.
I get it.
Truth be told, if it were another corner or part of town, it would make me sad-- never liking to see that kind of loss-- but I don't think it would have bothered me this way.
Ya see, that building has so many childhood memories tied to it for me.
It was the location of:
My first job--shredding documents for the then Orange County Bank.
The buyer of all my 4-H sheep.
My youth minister's apartment where we played many a hand of euchre.
The basement where my mom assembled the Orange County Bank's 100th Anniversary Cake that was so huge it took a flat-bed truck to transport.
Many, many family and friends' bridal and baby showers.
An old fashion bottle coke machine that my aunt would take me to for a treat.
The break room where this country girl without cable first saw/watched CMT.
Many a Indian Summer Festival parade floats.
A bubble gum machine that took many a dimes from me as a kid in exchange for a handful of chiclets.
A town square that I made many a loops around as a kid in my little Chevy Celebrity and now a familiar site that signals I am almost "home".
The buyers of tons of my girl scout cookies.
The steps where I posed with my aunt one Halloween. She was a witch. I was a clown.