We come up the sidewalk after a fifteen hour drive. The three-step climb up to the front porch seems like a heavy one after a long day, but my heart is light. There is a sense of place here. A sense of roots. This is where I’m from.
My parents are here–they are waiting at the door to embrace us all. Their marriage is forty eight years old and there is a twinkle in their eyes and it’s all such wild grace.
My dad, over six feet of him, draws his little granddaughter up into his love and holds her. “I love you, Papa. I’m in Ohio now.” She had been counting the days for weeks.
We walk in and around. Every room holds my earliest memories. The piano where I first learned by the “John Thompson method.” The fireplace where we snuggled with the dogs on the winter evenings. The kitchen that nourished our bodies and our souls. The backyard where we played and frolicked and chased lightning bugs on the summer nights.
This was the place where I first dreamed of my future life–would someone really love me? Would I have children of my own some day? Should I go to law school? Or travel to Europe?
So many of those questions are answered now as I look into the face of my beloved after a long day’s drive. Our own journey started in this place . . . on a bus ride to school twenty seven years ago. And twenty years ago we went on a picnic and he asked me for forever and I said yes.
I never went to law school . . . I only spent four weeks in Europe . . . but my life is full and good. And I am loved.
So here I am back at the beginning of the days ordained for me. Memories and stories are hidden in every corner. And it is my birthday soon–a reminder that I am hemmed in by time, limited by these few years. But this place, this home, this family–this is where I first tasted eternity.
tracing grace 
It’s so good to have you here. I am so glad that this is where you’re from. I love you, my sweet daughter. Let’s go to the ocean together. Today! Love, Mom
Beautiful.
Thank you. I was inspired by your sparkler poem to write one about Niagara Falls. Where was your family camp? Looks like the best of all worlds!
This is a lovely remembrance. What a tribute to your parents, your beloved and your Beloved.
Yes, being there stirs up all sorts of sweet memories. Godly parents are a rich blessing!
Loved this one my friend – really touched me. I particularly loved when you said “I never went to law school . . . I only spent four weeks in Europe . . . but my life is full and good. And I am loved.” It reminds me of one of our family’s favorite songs “So We Never Got to Paris” . . . . . It’s always been a dream of mine to actually see Paris in person, but “this cup fills up so quickly, there’s so much on our plate. Between the living and the learning, some things must wait… We may never get to Paris and find the cafe of our dreams, but our table still will hold a world of memories. If we never get to Venice and [stroll] the streets alone, [we’ll build our worlds together and we’ll get] the best of both.”
I’ll have to search for that song–sounds perfect! Yes, the world of memories is ours for the making!