Home

My hubby and I are training for a sprint triathlon. We did this same race last year and it was a good way to motivate us to stay in shape. We signed up again this year, but I'm not quite as gung-ho. It might be because I am ten pounds heavier this year (seriously, what is the point of running if I'm still going to gain weight?!) or it might be that I don't feel like devoting much time to training. Nevertheless, we are registered and, therefore, committed. So I forced myself to go to the pool last night for my first swim workout of the year. As soon as I slipped into the water, I felt at home.

I have noticed more and more over the last few years that certain things trigger major nostalgia for me… and some of them are kind of weird. But since I am learning to embrace my weirdness, I would like to share a few of the things that instantly make me feel like I'm home… and I hope you will leave a comment sharing your (possibly weird) things that do the same for you.

Swimming pools

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When I was a kid, I was a member of the local swim team in my hometown of Price, Utah. I had learned to swim very young and joined the swim team when I was 11 or 12. I swam with the Castle Valley Barracudas for about two years before my desire for popularity won out and I traded swimming for cheerleading. After all these years, though, lap swimming is one of my favorite things to do. It cuts me off from the world. It soothes my body and mind. It gives me time to think without distraction.

Orchards

Here I am in the apple orchard, hugely pregnant with my son in 2008.

My grandparents owned and operated a fruit farm for many years. We lived about 30 minutes away and would frequently go to help them with farm work, like picking up sticks, sorting apples, or thinning peaches. My grandma still lives there, but most of the trees are now gone. It makes me sad to see the empty space that was once filled with row after row of apple, pear, and peach trees. Though I don't miss the dirty, itchy work of thinning peaches, seeing an orchard always makes me miss those dusty days on the farm.

Lumber

We recently built some wooden shelving into our garage. My hubby bought the lumber and I helped him unload it. As we carried the wood into the garage, I commented on how much I love the smell of lumber. Dave just thought I was weird. When I was six years old, my family moved into a home with an unfinished basement. Over the years, my dad gradually worked on finishing it off, so we usually had a supply of 2x4's and sheetrock. The smell of lumber makes me think of an infinite potential.

It was smell that carried memory... Memories of smell didn't fade, and they short-circuited your entire psychology -- they didn't tunnel through endless experience or get loaded down by any part of your conscious mind. They stitched you instantly and fully to your other times, without regard to sequence.
                                                                My Name Is Memory by Ann Brashares

So what seemingly insignificant things are ingrained in your memory? Please share! I'd like to know it's not just me who loves the smell of lumber in the morning.