Sidetracked Sisters

Inherited Anchors

anchorI am a creature of habit—always have been. And it’s not just how we decorate cookies or the way I fold towels (the way Mom taught me, of course). It goes deeper than that. My habits are stitched into the way I live, the things I hold onto, and the way I move through the world. Ninety percent of my home is filled with hand-me-downs: my Great Uncle’s clock, Grandma’s dining room set, Mom and Dad’s bedroom set. To most people, they’re just old things. To me, they’re anchors. They tether me to the people who shaped me, to a way of life that feels solid and familiar. I don’t keep them because they’re trendy or valuable. I keep them because they remind me who I am—and whose I am.

Some of the habits I’ve kept aren’t even conscious—they just are. I clean the same way I was taught when I was a kid. I keep a box of random things that we’ll never use, because Dad had a box labeled “Things We’ll Never Use.” At work, I live by the motto WWDD: “What would Dad do?”—because his calm, common-sense approach to life still guides me. These little routines may seem insignificant, but they bring me a sense of comfort. They root me in memories of when home was simple and the world felt smaller. I may have updated a few things here and there, but most of the way I live now is shaped by the way I grew up. And I’m okay with that.

Having an anchor doesn’t mean you’re stuck in the past—it means you know where your center is. When life feels chaotic or uncertain, I find myself leaning into those familiar ways of doing things, the rhythms and routines that feel like home. An anchor might be a comforting routine, such as cleaning the kitchen before bed every night, or a belief that helps you stand firm when life gets messy, like Dad’s: “Life is too short to fight.” It helps you stay steady when everything else feels like it’s shifting. For me, those little traditions, habits, and hand-me-downs are more than sentimental; they’re a way of holding on to who I am, even as the world changes around me.

I may not live an exciting or modern life by some people’s standards, but it’s a life that feels rooted. And in a world that often feels like it’s drifting, I take comfort in being anchored. My habits, my home, and the stories behind the things I keep, they’re all part of something larger than just me. They remind me that I didn’t get here alone. I carry pieces of the people who came before me, Mom’s snarkiness, Grandma’s dishes, Dad’s jokes… and yes, even his box of “Things We’ll Never Use.” And in doing so, I hope I’m creating something steady enough for my children to hold onto as well.

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