Home

     I think the word has different meanings for different individuals. Today, . . . and perhaps Home is the wrong word to use. I’m talking more along the lines of peace. Perhaps most people can say those two words are interchangeable; I cannot, well, for the most part. Daughter runs amok, but I love her. I work too much, but it has to be done. In truth there are a few moments throughout the day when I feel at peace in my home. One I can always count on is going to bed at night and touching my wife’s feet with my own. Wife said early on that as long as our feet were touching at night, then the world was right, and all was going to be ok. I thought this was a little silly at first . . . but more times than not as I slip into bed seeking rest, my legs straighten; feet seeking their companion so I may know the world is right and all is well.
     Today it was sound though. We had went to a birthday party; I wasn’t feeling too good but went anyway (no it’s not contagious; sugar dropped out and I was dealing with the “oddness” of it all) and I had a good time. Saw lots of people we love and made some crafts and played some ball; watched daughter try her hardest to dribble a basketball. She’s getting there. When we got home I went to the mailbox and was frozen in my tracks at the sound of rain falling on the trees. For some reason the sound was really resonating hard and it could not be ignored. Immediately I was taken back to my Aunt’s who lives up closer to the mountains. For some reason my mind was flooded with the sounds and smells of sitting on her porch while the rain danced on the roof. I stood there for a few minutes . . . breathed a few deep breaths . . . then walked on. I was caught again, the sound was pervasive and it could not be escaped. I just stood and listened.
     Technically I didn’t grow up in the hills of East Tennessee; but for some reason I feel a greater peace up at my aunts. I think, . . . I think perhaps it has to do with where dad grew up. I don’t know if I feel closer to him or if I’m just remember his emotions regarding the hills of his home. I bet if given the choice dad would have moved back up there . . . maybe. Doesn’t matter now; what’s neat is I get that wonderful sense of peace and home when the rain falls just right. I hope, above all hopes I hope that Daughter will enjoy to learn the value of just stopping and listening. To enjoy the things around you; and to seek after things of peace and home.