Memories

Isn't it funny when one small thing triggers so many memories? This morning as I was driving back home after dropping my husband off at work, a song came on ("This is your life" by Switchfoot.) It immediately took me back to Italy a couple of years ago during Beach Break. The program team used that song as entrance music to one of the program times. We heard it every day (I did for 2 weeks!), so now every time I hear that song, I think of Italy. That year was a really good year. I had been meeting with 3 girls all year, every Friday for lunch. At camp, two of them made commitments to Christ. It was an amazing year at camp.

The second memory happened this weekend, as I was driving down to my sister's to finish the cake. I drove down a highway that I've only been down once before, 6 years ago. My single's group from church was going down to the beach for the weekend, so I decided to take the direct route instead of going through Houston. I don't remember driving through the town where we live, but I remember a town several miles south. All the buildings were on one side of the road, and the other side had the railroad. That town was so strange, only on one side of the highway, so it really stuck out in my mind. I remember being so careful driving that weekend because I didn't want a ticket, and small Texas towns have reputations for being speed traps. That weekend was a really fun weekend, and I got to take my niece (the same one whose cake I did) into the Gulf for the first time. It was so much fun watching her play. If I remember correctly, she didn't like it at first, but I think she got used to it. It was a lot of fun.

The last memory from this weekend happened Friday night coming home from the football game. I saw Double Dave's Pizza. Oh, the memories of that place! I was first introduced by a friend who went to TAMU when I went to visit her one weekend. Then back home, a friend I worked with had a husband who did satellite installation all over Texas, and whenever he'd go to College Station, he'd stop at Double Dave's and bring us back dozens of pizza rolls. (It's like they took a slice of pizza without the sauce, but with the cheese and pepperoni and rolled it up into a stick and baked it. Then you dip it into sauce.) She would tell me usually the day before or the day of that he was going, and I'd go over there for dinner. They were like my home away from home. I was over at there house at least once a week, sometimes more. I did my laundry over there and just hung out with them. I always felt so at home with that family. Once they even put up with me for a couple of nights during the week because we thought I might have a stalker at work. I'm so grateful for the friendship they gave me.