Awhile back, I did touch on a Cookbook my grandmother sent me that had a lot of town history in it.
Today, however, I don't need to talk about the history of the town. I need to talk about the history of me and my childhood in this town.
Welcome to Palestine, Tx.
I was born in 1980 in Palestine. We lived in a white house for a few years until we could afford my mom's dream home. A 2 story home with picture windows.
I lived in this house when I learned to tap dance.
When my cat had kittens
When the old lady next door poisoned our cat, Mr. Flowers, for getting in her birdbath.
When I started Middle School and High School.
My bedroom was that window upstairs by the chimney.
I fell down the stairs, a LOT.
Here is my High School:
I even looked on Google Maps at a photo of my Grandparents old house, when I spent most of my life. It has changed too. So drastic I didn't even do a screen shot.
It's interesting when you move away and grow up. You want to go back to those places that built you and reflect, yet things constantly change and you have to rely on your memories.
My cousins and I rode our bikes to Anderson Park to play in the fountain.
I rode infinite loops through the parking lot of the shopping plaza to see my friends on Saturday Nights.
I graduated on the football field in the largest class the High School had seen. (I'm sure that's not the case now).
I grew up saying yes ma'm and no sir.
I grew up with bread and butter on the table at every meal.
I grew up watching the dogwoods bloom every year.
I grew up going to school with all the same kids from K-12.
I grew up in a small town.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.