Four years and five days ago, the boys' father and I brought forth on this family a new home, conceived in liberty (from the scorching desert heat), and dedicated to the proposition that all family members were created as Southerners.
Translation: four years and five days ago, we moved to Nashville from Twentynine Palms. We traded in the desert rat lifestyle for a lifestyle drenched in summer humidity, barbecue sauce and sweet tea.
We have now lived in Nashville for four days longer than we lived in Twentynine Palms. When we lived there, I used to think we were never going to get to leave. And now we've been gone longer than we stayed there. Amazing.
Here's the house we lived in, the weekend we had a freak snowstorm:
That was a giant palm tree in the front yard. It was weighed down with snow. The only thing weirder than seeing a palm tree with snow on it was seeing a cactus with snow on it.
And here's one of the oases located in Joshua Tree National Park, not far from our house. (I was about seven months pregnant with William in this picture.)
Thinking about that aspect (the being pregnant with William) makes me realize how long ago it really was.
David mentioned that we should really take William to see where he was born one day. I said, "Why?" He said that he thinks everyone should know where they come from. And yes, he's probably right. One day when Andrew's a little bit older, we'll take the boys to San Diego and we'll drive up to Palm Springs for part of the trip. And then David can take William up to Twentynine Palms and show him where we was born.
(I think I'll stay down in Palm Springs, find myself a nice place to relax and have a drink by a pool or something, maybe visit with some of my old coworkers, if any of them still live there by then. I figure, I saw enough of Twentynine Palms while we lived there, and I can't imagine it will have changed very much by the time William is eight or nine years old.)
Also, William was indeed born in California, but I don't think of him as really being from California. He doesn't remember it. He didn't even live there as long as David and I did. All he knows is what we've told him about it. His home is here. He is a Nashvillian, as much as David and Andrew, who were born in the same hospital 36 years apart, are.
But as much as I love to rag on Twentynine Palms, we did meet some very good people there. And we did come away from there with a lovely baby who's growing up to be a very nice little boy.
His little brother's turning out pretty well, too. He can now "brush" his own teeth: