There are a lot of stories from the day I was born. There was my mom going into labor while watching Star Trek (which explains so much of my nerdiness), walking off the labor pains in an old abandoned hotel, and my dad’s first words to the world after my birth, “Lem’s a girl!” (because the name Lemuel had actually been in serious contention…). But my favorite story that my mother tells came later. In the middle of the night that I was born, my mom woke from a nap. She turned over in her bed to find me curled up and sleeping soundly in my clear basinet labeled, “Baby Girl” (because Lemuel hadn’t quite lost and Amanda hadn’t quite won yet). Sitting beside me was my father who sat there reading Winnie-the-Pooh to me.
It is hard to be homesick when I live in the age of cell phones, texting, skype, and facebook, but there are moments like today when I open up a box from Amazon that has a copy of Return to the Hundred Acre Wood in it and suddenly 1,700 miles really feels like 1,700 miles and I wish that it was slightly more convenient to wrap my arms around my dad in a giant bear hug and say thank you.