Memories of ...
... late nights walking barefoot in the cool damp grass under a bright moon and a star littered with a million stars.
... shoes being optional and, more often than not, discouraged.
... lazy mornings being awoken by the sun peeking over the hills and creeping across your bedroom floor inch-by-inch until it slowly kisses your eyelids, waking you in the most pleasant way.
... the cool smooth feel of a dry dirt road beneath your padding feet as you walk down it's center with no fear of a car coming from either direction.
... looking in every direction and seeing beautiful rolling green hills that ignite in a fire of color as soon as autumn comes.
... the sound of water. Everywhere. Waterfalls and tumbling creeks and early morning rains and the lapping of waves at the lakeshore.
... recognizing each car that passes by as a neighbor's or a friend's or a family member's. No one was a stranger because everyone knew my mom or my dad or my grandparents or my aunt on my mother's side or my brother's high-school girlfriend. Everyone knows everyone.
... the taste of freshly-picked green beans from a local farmer's field. They are especially sweet they have been picked by your own hands.
... the occasional jet trail carving up the bright blue sky.
... "small" summertime bar-b-ques just for the family that slowly grow and grow as neighbors and friends stop in to say "hello." And there's always enough food. And drink.
... just "stopping by" to visit friends. No need to call ahead or make arrangements. Just pulling in the driveway is all the notice needed.
And knowing that there is nothing in the world that can't be fixed by sitting on the front porch on a warm summer night with a cool glass of wine in your hand, loved ones by your side, and a million fireflies dancing in the tall grasses before your eyes.
Thankfully NY is only a week away. Because I do <3 NY. Home is indeed where your heart is.
And since I'm a wee bit homesick, here are some pics of my home sweet home.
|Yeah. That's my parents' front yard. Pretty fantastic, huh?|
|And the lakes. Oh, the lakes.|
|Our favorite evening program. We never miss it.|
|The Bridge of Sighs has nothing on this.|