Ode to a Lightpost.

My house is quiet tonight. The boys are in bed, the dishes are done, and Mike, who went to put Jake in bed...again, hasn't come down. My guess, is that he wanted to set the proper example for his child, and fell fast asleep himself. The quiet moment reminded me that I really needed to mop my kitchen floor! Moping lends itself to thinking. So tonight as I mopped, my mind danced with all the thoughts that during the day it rarely has time to dwell on. I thought about North Logan, the home of my youth. And more specifically that beautiful corner of North Logan where my mom and dad live.

One week ago today, we packed up our suitcases and left that beautiful place. It was time to come home. Time to come home to school, callings, responsibility, heat that makes your eyeballs melt, home repairs, and a job. I thought tonight, that even after eight years of leaving that corner, it never gets easier.
Yes, home is where my little family is now. As it should be. Home is the happy sound of Mike coming home from work, of my kids playing "secret agents" in the backyard. Home is the tree house we built in the backyard, the sound of cicadas in the evening. Home is where my laundry pile never ceases to grow. But home will also, always be that corner of the world where I can go for a few weeks out of the year and feel like a girl again. The place that is so familiar and safe. A home where for a few days my motherhood responsibilities seem a bit lighter, because there is another mother around who never ceases to mother me. I love that. What a breath of fresh air it is to go home to my mom and dad, ... sister and brothers. It's the place where I can walk upstairs to the room of my youth, lie down, look out the big window, and find my star. The little star between the mountain peaks that I wished on night and night again. I sent up another wish recently, one that might involve me not always being so far away from that special corner of the world.


This is a happy memory. Do you remember this light pole? The light pole we all scratched are names into. It was fun to take a moment this summer and look at this pole. As young neighborhood kids we all autographed the light pole, trying to get are name as high as we could. It was fun to see the names of my "generation," still shining through. I noticed names of kids older than myself as well as kids who trailed a few years after. I even saw new names of current neighborhood kids and I smiled to think that the tradition lives on. In the moment, I had to find a good rock and scratch my kids names on that post as well. I hope this pole never gets painted, it would seem a little to sacrilege.

Here's another view of the light post, surrounded by my mothers beautiful "park strip" flowers.

Enjoy a shot of heaven on earth!