I didn't miss Utah while I was in Florida. Not once did I wish away the time I had sitting by the pool or sweating through a hot parking lot. I loved every minute. So I didn't really expect to feel any waves of nostalgia when I came home for the week. But while I was here I attended our neighborhood's firework display.
It was held in the front yard of my neighbor and I could see inside my house as the night got darker. Through the glass storm door I saw the cedar chest. I bought as a hope chest for my 18th birthday. My sister had bought one when she turned 18 so I thought I should too. But I never really used it. It sits in our entryway as one of those odd pieces of furniture that exist to fill up space. It isn't particularly functional although it did store a bunch of old wedding memorabilia and some old photos before I cleaned it out.
Somehow seeing it slantwise through the glass door made me feel an ache for home. I wanted to walk by it everyday and polish it when the rare fit of Martha Stewart hit me. I wanted to have things and history and belonging.
But it was not like a shift in feelings...it was more like having a wave hit you. It hits you get wet but you aren't swept out to sea. Even writing this, I can't recreate that homesick feeling I had.
I feel nothing but excitement for the upcoming year. I'm sad one of the months is already gone. I want to hold onto this year just as I want to hold on to my children's childhood. I'm not going to have it for long. I will be back with my cedar chest soon enough. There will be years and years of me in that home. Just as there will be years and years of my kids grown up and gone. I don't want to miss this.
It was held in the front yard of my neighbor and I could see inside my house as the night got darker. Through the glass storm door I saw the cedar chest. I bought as a hope chest for my 18th birthday. My sister had bought one when she turned 18 so I thought I should too. But I never really used it. It sits in our entryway as one of those odd pieces of furniture that exist to fill up space. It isn't particularly functional although it did store a bunch of old wedding memorabilia and some old photos before I cleaned it out.
Somehow seeing it slantwise through the glass door made me feel an ache for home. I wanted to walk by it everyday and polish it when the rare fit of Martha Stewart hit me. I wanted to have things and history and belonging.
But it was not like a shift in feelings...it was more like having a wave hit you. It hits you get wet but you aren't swept out to sea. Even writing this, I can't recreate that homesick feeling I had.
I feel nothing but excitement for the upcoming year. I'm sad one of the months is already gone. I want to hold onto this year just as I want to hold on to my children's childhood. I'm not going to have it for long. I will be back with my cedar chest soon enough. There will be years and years of me in that home. Just as there will be years and years of my kids grown up and gone. I don't want to miss this.
I love the way you write…I love how you think.
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