Since my parents no longer live in my childhood home, or even the same city, coming home has become a juxtaposition of familiar and new. For the most part, the material items representing my childhood and adolescence have either migrated to my own home or been purged. My mom has a similar love for photography, but the type focused around people. Those reminders of years past hang everywhere in my parents' home, sometimes eliciting a smile and a fond memory, other times a shake of the head and amazement that anyone would wear that outfit.
There are certain creations and art projects that my mom couldn't bear to part with, and they still have a place of honor near her desk. For some reason, my prom dresses still hang in a basement closet. I'm sure if I dug through a couple of boxes in storage, I might unearth some other "treasures". For now, I'll passively sit on the couch and sip from my Novi Police coffee mug, absorbing the morning sun. I wish it came with a donut, too.
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