Home

There is a place where love flows strong. Where the embrace of the trees and the soft grass warms you on the coldest of Autumn days. There is a place where the river speaks to you and the birds fly with a careless freedom. A place where you can almost hear the rumble of the ocean in the distance. Frogs and crickets resound in harmony in the Spring's evening and the frozen dew crunches underfoot in the Winter. 


Home. 

Home can mean many things to each of us. There is the classic "Home is where the heart is" or the faded memory of a backyard swing from childhood. We remember the faces and the noises of home. The streets that wind their way to the house we grew up in. The swimming hole we spent our summers. The Post Man who brought you letters. We are lucky to have these memories. Memories we all too often take for granted in our busy lives. I am reminded of this every day, with gratitude, because of my job working with foster children. There are some people who don't have memories of a home. Of faces and noises. Of a post man or swimming hole. Their memories are lost, tucked behind a darker scene that often times replays in their minds. Questions override statements of childhood truths. Questions and uncertainty. I am thankful to have been blessed with the memories and knowledge, the safety and excitement that I had when I was a child. I am thankful to know that no matter where my life's journey has brought me thus far, there is still more adventure to come. I am one of the lucky ones. 

I hold these memories close to my heart and cherish each and every one of them. I remember the babysitter I had when I was a toddler and the porcelain doll I broke while at her house. I remember the swing in her backyard and the flowers that danced in the wind next to her house. I remember my elementary school, so majestic and historic. The play ground and the fields. The frozen morning milk. I remember the trees. There were so many trees. Pine and oak. Cedar and Spruce. The dogwood tree in the front yard at my mother's house that I used to climb. The blossoms were heavenly. The walnut tree in my father's backyard that we also climbed. There is the river, all the rivers. So much water. The ocean not too far away. The sand and the warm breeze from over the horizon. The candy. Oh how I have missed the ocean and the forests. These, above all else, remind me of home. The waterfalls and the moss. I have never felt alone while exploring the many trails. The rushing water, the swaying trees. Always have I had companions in my journeys. I have missed my ancient friends.

There are many eager faces awaiting me at home. My parents, my grandparents, my friends. Faces that, although weathered by time in these last 7 years, will always be familiar and welcoming to me. There are no words here.


Today we received incredible news. We will be going home. Beau received a job offer from a community college in Oregon. He starts this Fall. 

Beau will work here.

View of Umpqua River from his campus.

The river that runs through the town.

Fish ladder. Look at those trees!

Sometimes there will be sunshine.

I would like to live here. Thank you.

I'm coming home.


~Birdie

Because I was.