This past weekend, I noticed how full my home feels when my sisters are there. Most of the time the place where I live is "my" home. When my sisters visit, it morphs easily back into "our" home. I may own and maintain it, but its spirit will always belong to the whole family ... my four sisters, their children and their children's children.
I like where I live well enough. I'm grateful for having it. But sometimes I wish I could pick up and move somewhere smaller, closer to my faraway family. I love the homey feeling I get when I know that family sits around the table, or congregates in the kitchen. I tend to have issues with loud noises, they kind of freak me out. But the sounds of pan lids rattling, dishes clicking together and Coke cans popping, accompanied by my sisters' laughing is music to my ears.
The the ocean's siren call lured Jean from the mountains to her favorite place by the sea. The magic of sea air and sunlight is the elixir her body craves after being gone for awhile. I, on the other hand, have not put my big toe in the ocean all year. What's wrong with that picture?
Yesterday, I noticed how sad I feel every time I say goodbye to my sister(s). I noticed how the emptiness engulfed me, so did the only think I can think of in that situation. I said a prayer for Jean's safe travel and crawled into bed for took a nap.
(Note to Jean and sunny D: The pictures are on my camera but the computer is not recognizing the camera hook-up??? Will share when I figure it out.)