"I know they say. You can't go home again. I just had to come back one last time. Ma'am I know you don't know me from Adam. But these handprints on the front steps are mine".
This song speaks to me like no other song has for a long time. I'm not sure why. My age? The move from my home state Iowa to Wyoming? Is it the fact that I had cancer? Is it because I dreamt of a different life than what has become? Not better, just different.
No.
It's home. Family. From Peps our dog, to chickens, cats, cows, pigs, and even racoons. The barn. The gravel roads. The beautiful memories that happened within those walls. And forget the walls, it's the acres. The farm. Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving. With Connie, DeAnn, Mom and Dad. Extended family. Friends. Along with Dennis who helped Dad on the farm for....I don't know how many years. He was the closest person I could consider a brother. Obviously more than this but at this moment it's what's on my mind.
Home. It was the 100+ year old farmhouse I spent my childhood to the time when my parents built the house they dreamed of. Memories of growing up. Family time. From playing pick up basketball games with whoever was there on Sunday afternoons on the outdoor court during the days when the sunshine hung in the sky to when the sun didn't shine and we had to shoot 100 free throws inside the pole building. And make a certain percentage or start all over again. Boy, did that come in handy later on. It was those same Sunday afternoon's that I would be DeAnn's catcher while she practiced pitching. I didn't make that a habit. She could make my hand sting and hurt. Plus I was scared to catch for her. It was usually Connie or Dad that had that duty.
Sunday nights. Popcorn, Polly's chicken and fries from Parkersburg or Brown Bottle Pizza.
So many memories. I wonder what it would be like to walk through the door from the house that built me into the kitchen and see where I did my homework. To see the dining room, living room and my old bedroom. To see those memories flash before my eyes.
"If I could just come in I swear I'll leave. Won't take nothing but a memory from the house that built me".
Oh, one last thing-
"And I bet you didn't know under that live oak my favorite dog is buried in the yard".
Grandma Becker's entry from August 16, 1990
"Up at 6:30 still humid. Hair at 9:30 - Gerald to Aplington at 11:00am. Jodi here an hour. Busy getting things ready to pack. Gerald home at 6:00. Talked to Dorothy, Connie and Charles. DeAnn called".
"You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can".
It's a great day to be alive~make it a great day!
Melody
xoxo
