It has almost been a MONTH since I have blogged last. Where has the time gone? My summer is now over, and I am back in Oxford for the August intersession. Yes, that's right, three and a half hours of MATH Monday-Friday. Lovely right? Ok, there is my pessimistic spill. No more.
So, during my long absence, I have gone from Texas, back to Brandon, and now to Oxford. I am currently sitting in High Point Coffee because Tara's internet is down right now, and I must say, sitting in a coffee shop with your computer in your lap and the perfect mocha to your right adds a whole new feeling of intelligence to your daily routine. Spoiler alert (my new term that I have received from all of the magazine articles and websites I visited trying to find out who Ali picked- I am a dork I know) this will be a longer blog since I have been gone so long.
So, I guess the most interesting thing to write about would be my trip to Texas. For those of you who don't know me that well, I guess I should say my place of birth was Houston, Texas, but Brandon will always be my hometown. So in July, my parents and I voyaged to Texas for a few days of catching up with old friends and oh yes, SHOPPING. The Galleria was so amazing- and I successfully entered a Coach store without going into cardiac arrest, drooling, and without buying anything. For those of you who know me well, you realize the magnitude behind this past sentence. HUGE deal. So on the last day of the trip as we were leaving Houston, my mom thought I should see my "first house." I sighed and began my whining tangent about how that was so cheesy, didn't understand the significance seeing that I did not remember a thing about the house, we had a seven hour drive and didn't need any other detour (throw in 23832 other complaints and you have my futile argument). Then my mother said something that I later would ponder over. She said, "But it is important. That is where you learned to walk. That is where you learned to talk. That was the house you were brought back to- it's where the milestones happened."
Where the milestones happened.
Now, when you're in a car for seven hours, you have a LOT of thinking time, and I began to think about what my mom said. Where the milestones happened. How many times in life are WE others' "first homes." We, ourselves, are where others' milestones happened. It could be as simple as one word of encouragement, one smile, or one conversation that transformed someone else's life completely. A milestone happened. Or it could be a lifelong influence and example that someone else observes and chases after. Yet again, another milestone. We might not remember the small-talk conversations, brief interactions, and the thousand hellos that we distribute throughout our daily lives, but one day, we might just be the "first home" for someone else. They might not remember it then, but one day they'll look back and say, "That's where the milestones happened." Therefore, I think in life, that is one of our purposes. We were designed to be the "first homes" for others. We were designed to make milestones happen.
I wish I had a beautiful picture to show you of my "first home," but unfortunately, I do not. However, here are 1,000 words of my trip in Houston.