Home

On Thursdays while Royce is doing his prereques (this and the next four weeks) he takes the car before the kids get out of school. So I have to walk to the school ( a mile away ) to get them. Today I rode my bike cause I was running late. On the way home the girls and I went through the neighborhood and walked to my mom's. When I was 10 I had a bike. My parents got Peggy and I each a bike, used ones, from a garage sale or something. My bike had a banana seat and a huge back to it, this metal thing that stood straight up in the air. It was used, and not very stylish, but I loved this bike. I rode it all over the place. Today I rode where I used to ride when I was 10. The same streets, the same houses. It looks the same. And I always used to ride after school, the same time that we were out today. I remembered what my family felt like then. What my dad was like. What my mom was like. What life was like. Its not really de ja vu if you really are in the same place you once were. You can do that when you live in the same neighborhood you grew up in. Life was perfect then. All there was was school, my friends, the afternoon, bike riding, the sunset, and supper.
Today was the first time the memory of my dad was comforting. It didn't feel sad at all.


I just felt like I was home.



Maybe that is the true aftereffect of a wonderful life. When those left behind hurt at first because they miss you. But then the hurt slowly changes to comfort.

And then they just feel like they are home.

Me and Dad, and Uncle Paul,1975

-the same front yard my kids ran through today