Homecoming

The sun is coming up over the trees across the road where the homemade boat sits in the shadow of the grain silo. The boat looks a lot like the SS Minnow. The view looks a lot like home…or heaven.

My best friend just graced me with bacon and eggs for breakfast while I check emails from work and plan chunks of time to write.

Blue paint tattoos my foot where it landed during the last assault on the white walls of the new home.

Madi joined the posse on the prairie this weekend and I'll see Kenan in less than a week. Howard – knowing that reception out here past the Konza Prairie is intermittent at best – texted yesterday instead of calling. How very thoughtful.

I am content for the first time in my life.

And this place that was home for so long, Manhappiness, where I raised my kids and played wiffleball, feels like a familiar place with memories around each hill.

I've found myself navigating the prairie and the city by way of running routes. Howard endured endless references to "this is the last leg of our Zombie Run" or "I love this hill; it was on most of our in-town runs" or "Simpson Hill in the snow was my favorite."

I've been thinking about – praying about – what "Home" means and this wild homecoming of painting, scraping, and delaying a few meet-ups until after the bulk of the painting, oiling old wooden spaces, and moving is done. I need the extra shot of motivation to power through a bit of painting.

Home is where the love flows back to you.

When I think of Manhattan, Kansas, I think of the people I love. "Auntie Mae's" who agreed to let me host a Bible study in the bar (I was too much of a weenie to follow through). All those running routes. M3 on her new scooter. Rainey and Mike cycling from the Farmers Market to yoga. Slogging on Diane's couch while we waited for our babies to be born. My sister and her family shooting fireworks like crazy folk for the fourth of July.

People I get to love.

Home is where the people we love cast long shadows.

Ulm, Germany, feels like home-ish because of the people I knew there.

Home walks around Gainesville, Georgia.

Home eats Bluebell ice cream in Houston.

I coming home. Flying to see Home graduate, running Chipolte's down to Home in Emporia, laughing over silliness after a long day with Home here with my best pals'. 

And I can't wait.

*photo above is along Manhattan Avenue, a road that always started and ended in-town runs. The PacMan gag was pure genius and went viral last winter. Genius grows on the prairie. SuperGenius grows at K-State. Photographer unknown.