You Never Know What You Want Until You Have It

All these years later, I can't hear Frank Sinatra without thinking of him. We dated for most of our time in college. He was young and beautiful and we loved each other madly. We shared a goofy sense of humor and many wonderful times. Honestly, today, there are no regrets, but that wasn't the case for years.

He was from a privileged family. His parents were still married, there was a family business and trust fund. In my early twenties, that all added up to far too much "tradition" for me. I loved him terribly, but my future seemed so proscribed if I stayed with him. In my immaturity, my response was to assert my feminist "philosophies" and my disdain for small town (Louisville, KY) living. Surprisingly, the relationship fell apart.

This afternoon the boys and I attended a Brunswick Stew party. It's an annual event put on by a family friend that entails the all-day process of cooking the stew over an outside fire pit. In the crisp fall air, the fire and the stew smell amazing. We all stand around the fire and enjoy the company and a few beers. The kids run around in the woods, play on the playground in the park behind the house and the dogs nose legs hoping for a scrap or two. There are people we see that we only see once a year at this party and we all greet each other with hugs and big smiles.

As I walked out of the party tonight with my three boys and my husband and loaded into the car, I thought about what a nice day we had and how much I love traditions.