Love at home

Another stressful flight was ending, and our plane was descending down over Tacoma. I could see the neighborhoods dotted with the beautiful green trees. Not a cloud in the sky as we circled around to land. As I looked out the window, I couldn't help but tear up as two words kept running through my mind. "We're home."

I love my home. I love my plants full of fruits and vegetables, and even my brown lawn that will, once again, need to be resurrected through alot of love and care. I love the smell of my house. I love the colors of my walls. I love being on a schedule. I love having things to do, like grocery shopping and playgroups and meal planning. I love my calling. I love my friends.

I love how Leighton was so happy to be back that he just crawled around, exploring and babbling and laughing to himself. I love cooking in my kitchen. I love the map on our upstairs wall with Andrew's pins marking all his travels. I love leaving the windows open at night. I even love my perpetually dirty kitchen floor.

I love that I found Andrew's laundry still sitting on the top of the dryer and the bowl to the ice cream maker still sitting in the sink. (If I move those things, then he's REALLY gone...so I may just leave that laundry there for another 4 months. Just kidding, honey...I'll put it away before you get home.)

I love Washington weather. I love my minivan. I love my clean, organized garage. I love the little hummingbird feeder Andrew hung in the backyard, which has yet to attract any birds at all. I love my bathtub. I love sleeping in my own bed with 2 body pillows, even if it is lonely. I love everything about where I live.

Leaving was fun, but coming home is amazing. I feel peaceful and whole again. It's good to be home.