If I had to sum up our trip back to Nebraska in one word, it would probably be park-errific. Meaning, it was mostly spent park hopping and was nothing short of terrific.
Our mission while back was to soak up family members we've long missed, watch some baseball, and give Kennedy a taste of the Midwest.
Fields of corn, unpredictable weather, people that thank you when you hold a door open for them, Runza, tire swings and merry-go-rounds, trains, water towers, and a landscape that makes you want to get all Von Trapp-ish and run and sing for the hills -- er, plains. I didn't realize that these things don't exist in every state until I moved to the desert. I'll never take lush green lawns and big one-hundred-year-old trees for granted again.
:: Looking back, I feel like I couldn't get out of my hometown fast enough after high school graduation. And now -- well, now my heart aches when I hug my parents goodbye for the last time and homesickness sets in long before we've left the airport runway.
:: Watching Kennedy swing with my family -- while the grade school I learned to read and write my name in smiles on in the background -- was probably one of my favorite moments of our trip.
:: The trains. They whiz by often and with them they bring a lot of metal on metal noise. Since Kennedy loves her some trains, it was a given that a trip downtown where freight cars hold up traffic on Central was an essential outing.
And so we waited.
But we didn't have to wait long.
She was a wee bit apprehensive of the massiveness of the machine that came barreling down the tracks but soon found comfort on my hip and handed out friendly waves to the passing cars.
:: So, yeah, we went to the park. A lot. Sometimes twice a day. The park became a daily bribe to get Kennedy to take a nap, eat her lunch or to defuse a meltdown. I think she just might love her a park more than she loves her a train.
:: So, naturally, catching up with old high school friends revolved around a park visit too.
:: In all the years of packing for a trip, I have always over packed. Usually, I bring clothes suitable for every season of the year. Usually. This time, however, I convinced myself that over packing just meant more laundry and, really, how cold can it get?
And so the story goes that in my quest to not over pack I left behind all things warm -- except this lone sweater in a hot pink hue (the jeans were purchased on our trip).
And warm days did, in fact, come and the outfits I had packed were harmonious with the temperature outside. And I was glad to have terminated my membership in the Over Packer's Club.
Until one day, we woke to find Mother Nature had given Sun the day off and Wind and Rain were her replacements. And quickly I realized that I had my answer to "how cold can it get" -- cold, very cold.
So, come wind, rain or shine, we found ourselves at the park, and I found myself vowing to reinstate my membership in the Over Packer's Club.
:: It takes my shy girl a while to warm up to new faces, but when the environment becomes a little more familiar and she settles into a more comfortable, confident skin, the wild and carefree Kennedy I know breaks from her cocoon and spreads her wings towards anyone who doesn't have "no" in their vocabulary. Some may call this elite group of only "yes" sayers suckers, but a wise person would know that they prefer to be called grandparents.
Kennedy throwing a moose at Papa Moe + Over and over again = Grandparent.
:: We usually go back to Nebraska in November and June. November, for the obvious -- Thanksgiving. June, for a little thing called the College World Series.
For Brandon, it's typically three or four days spent tailgating, chewing sunflower seeds at the games, reminiscing with old friends, catching up on Sudoku, playing the golf ladder game and bantering with his dad about the upcoming football season.
For me, it's usually one day where I hand Kennedy off to grandma, confirm our car is parked close to a port-a-potty and pretend I came there to watch players run the bases. Truth be told, I don't really care who's playing. I'm not there for the baseball. I'm there to relax, spend some quality time with my husband, eat some of Doug's famous food and drag old friends out to have a beer with me.
The CWS is one of my favorite family traditions and there will come a day when slides and swings will be replaced with ballpark hot dogs and golf ladder games with grandpa. And hopefully this tradition will become a part of Kennedy's memories and she'll always think of our family vacations when she hears the word Nebraska.
