I used to walk barefoot on this property. When I was little I hated wearing shoes. Like seriously hated it. The bottoms of my feet were often strange colors and extremely calloused. We would make the 4 hour drive to my grandparents and upon arrival I would not reshoe my foot. So I would climb out of the van onto the stone/gravel driveway and limp my way into the house. I'm telling you, this gravel was like monster size. It wasn't just like little stones, it was big mountains of sharp edges and angular sides just waiting to try to pierce my soles.
Well, since then the driveway has been paved and I've better adapted to wearing shoes, but I took a little walk outside in my bare feet and was reminded of the time when I was little and this was the normal. I even stepped on a few little stones and it showed me how much I've grown/changed since then. My feet instantly protested. It made me chuckle at the comparison.
The thing I think I appreciate most about being back here in my second childhood home is that despite the fact that I'm 21 and obviously different from the little girl who used to walk barefoot all over the place, I can still just be me. I can let the little girl side of me come out, even if it's just in the little things.
I can still sit around the table and play a game of cards, laughing until my sides hurt with my grandparents. I can still curl up in front of the TV with a blanket and cheer for the Pirates, Steelers, or Penguins. I can still spend an evening sitting on the back porch swing with my grandma telling stories.
No matter how old I get, I will always be their grandchild, free to be who I am and who I've been for as long as I can remember.
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