If you know me, you know I’m all about traditions. They can be big or small. Perhaps yours may be something similar to my family’s Daddy Duke Nights, maybe an annual trip to somewhere you hold dear, or a simple happy hour Sonic slushy – something small but special to you, or perhaps squeezing in a dance party in your kitchen before dinner. Whatever it may be, traditions are something to look forward to, something to commemorate, something to celebrate. They’re predictable and steadfast, and although everything around you may change, those traditions remain. I’m no advocate for change. Give me that static and stability any day. That’s why I hold traditions so dear. My circumstances may change, but I can carry those with me wherever I go.
Speaking of traditions, this weekend Covenant College celebrates another Homecoming weekend. This weekend also happens to be the first time in seven years that I haven’t been there on the mountain to celebrate. You see, Covenant College has been a part of my world for as long as I can remember. My Mama, hailing from Maryland, met my Pops there, a Californian man. They both earned their undergraduates from Covenant College, and we’re married 7 months after graduation. Later, my Pops went on to earn his masters at Duke University (you best believe he raised us to be die hard Duke Blue Devils)!
There’s just something about getting rid of that clutter that you never utilize and realize you don’t need that feels so liberating. As I was rummaging through my old things this past week, decluttering because I love to throw things away, I happened upon an old journal entry that brought me such delight. There are some treasures that are too special to throw away, and this journal entry was one of them:
I grew up attending Covenant College’s Homecomings with my parents long before I became a student. There was something special driving down to Chattanooga, Tennessee, making our way up the windy roads of Lookout Mountain, Georgia, anticipating the views of the city below as we peeked out our car windows during the drive up the incline. Our road trips to visit “The Castle in the Clouds” were numerous, but each time they were something special. When I became a student, Homecoming weekends were one of my favorites. Jazz on the Overlook has always been a highlight throughout the years, swing dancing the night away atop the mountain. Swaying underneath a canopy of stars overlooking the states below – nothing much dreamier than that in my book. That event was even better when Jim and I went steady. I also loved attending the soccer games. Growing up, those were a highlight as I cheered the Scots on to victory with my family. I’ve always attended smaller schools, and they never had football teams. So, unlike a majority of Southerners I’ve met here in Mississippi, I grew up a big basketball fan. And at Covenant, you learned to love soccer.
Although we couldn’t be there this weekend, Jim and I are celebrating our alma mater from afar, listening to Chattanooga Choo Choo on repeat by Glenn Miller. Oh, those sweet memories. Lookout Mountain, Georgia and Chattanooga, Tennessee will always have a special place in my heart, and I think I’ll always be a little homesick for that those times and that place.
Home Sweet Hurt 