migrants.

a few weekend's ago i decided to drive my kids by the house i grew up in.  we moved in when i was just eight years old.  i was barely in my twenties & in college when we moved out.

the magnolia tree my daddy planted was gone.  the shutters & front door were painted a different color from what i remember them being.  the lawn was definitely not the green carpet of bermuda grass my mother painstakingly cared for.  but it was still home.  my old home. 

i wanted to stop & take a picture, but i thought it might be a bit awkward considering the current owners were in the front yard.

the kids knew bits & pieces about how and why my family came to virginia.  as we drove by, malia asked me, "mom, did you guys move because cesar chavez didn't want the migrant workers to pick anymore grapes?"

i shot her a bizarre look in the rear-view mirror and replied, "no, the navy brought us here."

{at least i know malia is paying attention in school...thank you, mrs. r & mrs. h!}