So Far From Home

Christopher is playing the piano. It's a sad song that makes me think of home—which seems so far away. I try to remember my kitchen there, but can't quite get the colors right. I try to remember the smells, the conversations, the food. Everything is muted.

We have a million memories of the wonderful, hard years there raising boys and struggling to pioneer a home and fit in to a culture that never really belonged to us (breaking in is always hard). Now I see my life dividing itself into separate decades. And that was the Georgia Years. Letting go of it hurts, but life moves on without regard to sentimentality. I find I have to work hard to not let the rich blessings of yesterday fade away. Keeping them alive is an effort.