Reflecting on aged parents
When I was a toddler, my parents moved from their tiny starter home near the campus of Notre Dame to the four-bedroom home on a cul-de-sac in the suburbs of Granger which would turn out to be their forever home. It's where my three sisters and I lived our childhoods, teen years and even some "after college" years too on different occasions. Countless memories here span the decades and phases of our lives. When they moved in, they would've been in their early 30s with four girls under age 10. I am sure they were just as busy with and consumed with life with children all those years ago as my sisters and I are now in the midst of ourselves. The constant memory my sisters and I have of this home is of our parents taking care of us, providing for us—existing only in service to their four daughters well through all four weddings and even through the marriages. My father, once strong and capable of anything it would seem, built things, fixed things, mowed and raked the yard...
