Originally Posted on Jan. 19, 2022

Half my childhood, I spent time with Makayla in Marlow.

Of the many activities we enjoyed—playing “cash register,” jumping on the trampoline, riding bikes—going to her Maw Maw Gertha’s swimming pool was one of my favorites.

Kristy would say, “OK, girls, let’s get ready to go to the pool.” And the rush to get there began.

We’d gather the Barbies, slip on our suits, and grab the beach towels. Kristy would pack up the fruit snacks, PB&J sandwiches, and Capri Suns.

We’d then pile into her Ford Expedition, nicknamed “The Beast,” and head to the pool, where Kristy would set up her spot in the yard to watch us swim.

I can still smell the sunscreen that she rubbed on our shoulders. I can still see her blowing up my ring floatie. I can still hear calling me “VB.”

To me, the pool was ginormous, and I couldn’t touch the bottom. Hours passed like seconds as Makayla and I played “mermaids.”

For dinner, we’d go to Sonic. Kristy would have a cheese coney and a Dr. Pepper. Makayla would eat chicken, and I’d have a cheeseburger.

Then, we might go out to Mama and Daddy’s hilltop brick home at Clear Creek Lake. We’d gather around the living room table to play board games with the sisters.

Daddy would be in the next room over hanging out with his police officer buddies and selling ammo. In the background would be News 9 at 6 with Kelly Ogle.

Our Chihuahuas, Jewel and Lady, would be at our feet and in our laps as the night went on.

Outside the front window was the lake—crowded with campers and boats.

For years, this life was my whole world. The rhythm was steady and familiar.

One day, we all grew up.

Now we honor Kristy as we continue to drive the extra miles to be together. We honor her by playing games and laughing at blooper photos taken in the front yard. We honor her by settling into a rhythm and time again.

That’s what she would do.