My home is where there is love. It is peaceful, beautiful and sometimes feels as if I am on holy ground here on top of this hill in Idaho. Tall pines frame the scene of majestic mountains in the distance, sometimes deer or elk, rolling green fields and few houses. The only sound is of the wind in the ponderosas and quail calling to one another.
Even my grandsons are grown up. I have some wonderful memories of times with my children, grandsons and my sisters. I see a target for arrows in the garage and remember Kyle pulling that bow, losing arrows, then hitting dead center. A garter snake reminds me of Gideon handling it and laughing. I remember the gargoyle Sebastian built out of snow when we were here in December. There is the window seat where my sisters and I all sat and posed for a picture/.
I think about fishing at Fenn Pond, Chip fishing, the times Coleen drove out with her dog Rosco and took all the boys back to California. All the wonderful visits from Deb and Rod, and shared meals.; my daughter and I sewing.
My family is home. Love is at the core of us. It is the fun, the love, and the camaraderie that we all have together, the fierce need to be there for each other no matter what, that makes a place home. It is going out on a limb for one another yet not being afraid to boot someone you love in the butt when they need it. That is what family is all about, what love is about. We care what happens to one another. We care what choices we make. We share values and we stick up for each other who share those values. Love is disagreeing, yet respecting one another because we are family. It is what two people started, shared and grew together, and those that came before us. Family. That’s home for me.