This past weekend, I went home. And by home, I mean, my dad's home. For two nights, I spent my time dodging rattle snakes, slipping in waterfalls, climbing mountains, hiking in the wilderness, and becoming reacquainted with what the dramatic city girl in me's maiden name (Mayberry) truly means.
Yep, just an hour and a half east of Nashville (and approximately 50 minutes past that awesome outlet in Lebanon, TN) lies the little 20 square mile town of Cookeville, TN. Every year, in June... whoever can come will travel from near and far to do what we do best... eat, laugh, and catch up.
It's a time to gather. A time to love. A time to remember those who left a legacy.
This year was the first time in a long time that I've been able to go. This was also my hubby's first time to meet my crazy Cookeville family. But they welcomed him with open arms, and he fit right in...
One things for sure, my family sure did miss my momma on this trip. She couldn't come. One morning when we had breakfast we all started talking about how weird it was not having her there. It was almost like our 'glue' wasn't there. Dad was kind of on the verge of a melt down the whole time. He could barely keep his own children behaved (oh wait, that's me). Dad also goes to bed a lot earlier... and is a little less cool without mom around (sorry dad). My older brother put it best when he said, "It really is a testament to what the matriarch of the family actually means to our family."
The 3 ladies below are my grandmother (in the middle) and her two sisters Brenda (left) and Sue (right). They are 3 of the funniest ladies you will ever meet.