Missing home

I normally work Monday to Friday, but I went to work today. I had doctor appointments and mediation and had to make up some time. I need to save as much of my vaca time for our camping trip as I can. Afterwards I was craving stew. So I made us some guiness stew and star shaped biscuits. Had some friends over and played an evening of DnD.

Small groups are best. It’s people I know, people I’m comfortable around. I can do big crowds, but I’ve been extra reclusive lately. I’m sure it will pass.

I’m still trying to find an actual affordable caterer in the Tampa Bay area. That’s what’s holding us back from being able to have the nice big wedding we want. It’s not a party without food, and I can’t have an evening wedding without feeding people. We have time, so I’m sure we’ll figure something out.

I wish mom could be there (at the wedding that is). She would hate every minute of being forced to socialize, but at least she’d be there. Life feels disjointed with her gone. I don’t know if the pictures, or writing about her makes it better; or just hurt worse.

When we lived in Asheville last time, we had a monthly ritual. She and I would drive out to Black Mountain and have breakfast at Denny’s. We would each get a cup of coffee and just sit and talk. After breakfast we’d walk through the little town. It’s changed a LOT in fifteen years. At the time it was nearly empty. If only we’d had the chance for her to see how business was booming. It would have made her smile to see so many of the shops full of live.

I keep saying I want to go home. The mountains hold so many of those memories. The turning of the leaves down Hospital Road, the rhime frost clinging to the bare branches along Craggy Gardens, the rushing water over the rocks of Curtis Creek all whisper to me, calling me back. Begging me to return.

It’s not about visiting, or just a change of scenery. It’s about the freedom of living somewhere. It’s about turning a lazy afternoon into an adventure just by taking a short drive up the Blue Ridge Parkway. I remember lazing about watching hummingbirds fight over our deck for the best perch at the feeder. That was always mom’s favorite. She loved the hummingbirds. There’s too much to experience to be able to cram it all into one week out of the year. The crisp mountain air carries the memory of her, and I just want to be closer.


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s