We scurried to Chanute for an overnight gathering to celebrate Wilder's birthday. It was a smidgen of time when we could all be in Kansas, likely until Christmas. We relish these opportunities, take not a minute for granted.
I love going home. The town has changed a lot, as have I. Shawn said it best when he expressed, "it feels like we're being chased by ghosts. I see all these buildings and places, know they are familiar to me, yet I can't pinpoint those memories right now." He said this as we went to three different places at 10:00am on a Saturday looking for donuts. Donuts. On a Saturday. Everyone out of them. Fortunately, Wal-Mart...
Momma and Daddy have the sheets soft, the fridge brimming over. This time, lots of balloons for Wilder and a pooh-bear cake.
His gifts were lined up on the piano like she used to do ours. For a moment, I am lost as I recall opening gifts of cute tanks and flipflops, devotionals. But who is this boy, opening gifts? Why does he get to use our piano? And sit on us girls' stool? Oh, yes, he's mine.
And I'm a grownup.
Regardless of what I gain or lose in a melody of grownup decisions, I will always have home.