I Just Want to Go Home

It's true. I just want to go home. Home means the log sided house in Colorado. It has the most beautiful view in all the world. It has the material items that are familiar to me . . . my beautiful copper, my blue and white dishes, family photo albums, rugs I've collected from our travels, my FABRICS that hold a million possibilities for quilts. It is where I tend (with so much purpose and pleasure) the Aspen trees we've planted near the house. I can pick up the phone and talk to my family. I can take a couple of airplane flights and see my family. I live in the same DAY as my family. My heart settles when I sit on the porch with our dogs. (And my heart has never settled all that well anywhere.) It's an isolated spot so it's important to get out and walk with my neighbor, and good to get out for small trips pretty frequently. There are days when it doesn't seem all that great, but isn't that true of any place? Still it's our home. I don't really like going in to town, except to get the mail. Reclusive? I love the walks we can take right from our house. I love the snow coming down and the fire place burning. And my fabrics. Oh, I already mentioned those.

I think I'm homesick and I haven't even left the country yet.