Little House on the Prairie

When I was growing up, I got to visit my grandparents every other year or so (they lived two full days' drive away). We would stay for two weeks or so before making the long trek home. Going to their house was--and still is--like going home. In some ways, it even still feels more like home than where my parents live because they have not moved in 45 years. I can picture every corner and crevice of their home vividly and I can still taste the hot tea and Dutch biscuits that we ate daily at tea time.

In my younger years, one of our afternoon traditions was taking our tea while watching 'Little House on the Prairie.' These Michael Landon classics came on like clockwork at 4pm and we (my grandmother, mother and I) would sit in the den with our tea cups, saucers and biscuits precariously balanced on knees, pillows and end tables as we watched the unfolding drama of the Ingalls with rapt attention. I, of course, had read all of Laura Ingalls Wilder's books multiple times and was well-acquainted with the personalities of all the characters. Laura was always my favorite and I used to get lost in dreaming of my life as her.

[Aside: Often I wonder if the amount of reading I did as a child influenced me more than normal. When I think about it, I am really, scarily like the character of Laura Ingalls....]

The real Laura Elizabeth Ingalls Wilder

Today, I need to rest. So, after accomplishing a few necessary tasks, I put the tea kettle on to boil this afternoon and turned the t.v. on. Sure enough, a Little House marathon is on the Hallmark channel right now and I am immediately at Granny's house, watching the laughter light up her eyes into that familiar crinkle, listening to tea cups clink delicately as we imagine what it means to be the pioneers of yesterday even as we pioneer life today, in different ways.