Just got home from a super fast trip to the other home, Illinois. A long weekend for a family wedding and to bring my Mother Stuff to the House on the Hill. It was a wonderful weekend, filled with lots of love, laughter and family. And riding in the car. Lots of riding in the car.
I always forget just how different my childhood home is from my adult home. The vast open fields of the midwest hold their own awesome beauty. The fields stretch forever and the grain bins that dot the horizon are sculptural against an endless sky.
The trees stand out as unique individuals reaching towards that endless sky
and the barns stand against the horizon making a proclamation of pride and continuity between the land and the American Farmer.
Home is a small grain town that appears in the distance with such familiarity that it brings tears to my eyes.
Home is this town with its streets filled with echoes of childhood laughter and the park with the bandstand sitting smack in the middle, crowning memories of childhood firelfly hunts, hide and seek, family reunions and the best 4th of July celebrations. Ever.
Home is where I can go to a small cemetery in the middle of cornfields
and walk through generations of family with stones dating back to the mid 1800's.
When it was time to hit the road again my childhood home gave me one last celebration with an an awesome dawn.
Back to riding in the car
and more riding in the car.
and lots more riding in the car until we began to see our now so familiar landscape.
Then finally we saw this
and knew it wouldn't be much longer until we were with
GrandGirlie #1
GrandGirlie #2
and GrandGirlie #3.
Having them all 3 rush into my arms with such joy is the best homecoming anyone could ever want........along with the most beautiful Welcome Home Pictures proclaiming their love for me.
This homecoming also brought the revelation that I have been spelling my name wrong for the last 7 years. "I made this for you MeMe, all by myself," GrandGirlie #1 explained to me, "I wrote your name by listening, it's the m sound and the e sound, I hear it. It says, I love MeMe the best."
After all, who should know better than the Girlie that gave me the name in the first place, insisting that I was not Grammy like her Mama thought.
GrammyMimiMeme stands corrected, because after all.......What's in a name? that which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet..........
I always forget just how different my childhood home is from my adult home. The vast open fields of the midwest hold their own awesome beauty. The fields stretch forever and the grain bins that dot the horizon are sculptural against an endless sky.
The trees stand out as unique individuals reaching towards that endless sky
and the barns stand against the horizon making a proclamation of pride and continuity between the land and the American Farmer.
Home is a small grain town that appears in the distance with such familiarity that it brings tears to my eyes.
Home is this town with its streets filled with echoes of childhood laughter and the park with the bandstand sitting smack in the middle, crowning memories of childhood firelfly hunts, hide and seek, family reunions and the best 4th of July celebrations. Ever.
Home is where I can go to a small cemetery in the middle of cornfields
and walk through generations of family with stones dating back to the mid 1800's.
When it was time to hit the road again my childhood home gave me one last celebration with an an awesome dawn.
Back to riding in the car
and more riding in the car.
and lots more riding in the car until we began to see our now so familiar landscape.
Then finally we saw this
and knew it wouldn't be much longer until we were with
GrandGirlie #1
GrandGirlie #2
and GrandGirlie #3.
Having them all 3 rush into my arms with such joy is the best homecoming anyone could ever want........along with the most beautiful Welcome Home Pictures proclaiming their love for me.
This homecoming also brought the revelation that I have been spelling my name wrong for the last 7 years. "I made this for you MeMe, all by myself," GrandGirlie #1 explained to me, "I wrote your name by listening, it's the m sound and the e sound, I hear it. It says, I love MeMe the best."
After all, who should know better than the Girlie that gave me the name in the first place, insisting that I was not Grammy like her Mama thought.
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