A family of purple martins lives in a birdhouse by the lake, and their songs are mingling with a dozen other melodies. The sun is shining and a breeze is coming in. Chopped wood is piled up next to the water, ready to be burnt should one decide to make use of the chiminea.
It's spring in Tyler, Texas, where I am now a resident. I am back at home, and it is good.There are so many things that I could write about right now. How I had my misgivings about leaving California, how quickly those disappeared and how happy these first few days in Texas have been, all the reasons that Spring is my favorite season.... I could seriously go on and on with a million different thoughts that are in my head.
I think that what I will start with though, is the journey that took me from the beaches of Southern California to the rolling farmlands and green forests of East Texas. I mean that literally-- this time last week I was packing up every last minute thing I could think of, and was preparing to pick my dad up from the airport so that the road trip from Laguna Niguel to Tyler could begin.
First of all, I just have to brag on my dad for a minute. If I was in charge of awarding a Father of the Year medal, he would get it. The older I get the more I realize that as far as fathers go, I have been truly blessed. There's not many men who would jump on a plane after a day of meetings and fly across the country just so that they could be crammed into a Camry loaded down with every item their daughter owns, and then proceed to drive for three days just to get back home. I mean, come one. It's ridiculous.
However crazy, that's exactly what my dad did, and I am so grateful for it. We drove for hours and hours and hours, and while I can't deny that driving that long was tiring and uncomfortable, I can say that getting the opportunity to talk with each other for so long more than made up for it. Do you ever notice how the experiences that are so draining at the time end up being the ones that you draw the best memories from?
Even in my most tired, sore, grouchy moments, I was grateful to have my dad there. It was good to simply be together, to talk about whatever random thing came into our minds, to discuss the history of the seemingly barren, empty deserts that we drove through, to ask questions and to answer questions. I wish that all of my siblings and friends could have that kind of time with their fathers, though I'm sure not all of them would appreciate me wishing a thirty hour road trip on them.
We even had the chance to deviate from our route and add a little fun into the driving routine! We stopped and took pictures of cacti taller than both of us combined, we spent one morning in Tombstone, Arizona watching cheesy re-enactments of Wyatt Earp and Doc Holiday in gunfights with outlaws. We ate entirely too much fast food and coffee, and kept each other awake when we drove though six hour stretches of nothing but desert.
And at the end of that long weekend of driving, we were finally home. No matter what the circumstances, a three day drive will make you love being home, and it made it all the more sweet as I unpacked my bags and got settled into my old room, where I will be staying for the next three months until it's time to head off to Hawaii.
It almost surprises me how happy and content I am to be here. After so many years, it's good to be home for a while, and to know that I have the time to enjoy my siblings, to catch up with old friends and to make some new ones.
Keeping your heart filled with the spirit of contentment is such a happy place to be...
Welcome home, self!
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