my keepsake.

Friday was my 24th birthday, and yesterday was my great-grandmother's 99th birthday. Our birthdays are one day apart with 75 years to separate us.

I called Granny today, and we had the same conversation we had in June when I last saw her:

Granny, do you know who I am?
- No, honey, I don't.
I'm Lydia. I'm Vicky's daughter.
- Lydia? Oh. That was my mother's name.
I know. I'm named after your mother.
- Oh. That's right. You're my keepsake.
Yes, that's me, Granny. Your keepsake.
- From beginning to end...

It kills me that my Granny doesn't remember me. I grew up around my grandma and great-grandma, but since moving off to college, I haven't seen them as much as I did when I was home. Out of the 13 of us that call them Mammaw and Granny, my brother and I are the only ones who were lucky enough to be raised near them. Mammaw, Granny, my mom, and my aunts Celine and Phoebe used to spend hours playing Canasta and laughing harder than I have ever laughed with any other person or group of people.

I'm finding myself becoming super nostalgic these days as I think about home. It might be that the holidays are coming up, and for the first time EVER, I'm not going to be home for Thanksgiving, and I'm stressing a little about what Christmas will look like. I'm also spending a lot of time with other people's families and the special bond they share and are so willing to share with me makes me miss the first set of people who gave me the unconditional love I've experienced from so many others in my life.

I've got quite a few funny stories from this week, but I can't find it within me to be funny right now. Ask me later about how my kids can't tie their tennis shoes in 2 minutes, but can find the time to concoct a full-fledged drama about segregated cisterns in the time it takes for them to brush their teeth.

For now, though, if you're reading this, and you're from Texas, and I love you, and you love me, know that I miss you....