For two days I set the table for nine…and now we’re back to eight.

It was lovely having Clementine home, seeing her face at the breakfast table, sharing meals and conversation. Rocking chairs and music on the front porch, laughter and marshmallows around the bonfire…

And over too soon.

My friend Krislynne and I, took her home on Tuesday evening…chatter and laughter punctuating the long drive to Kentucky. Kisses and hugs in her apartment, one less voice in the car…

A brief overnight at my parent’s home…where my mom welcomed her own “little girl”; woman, mother and grandmother, to her home…bed prepared and turned down, a neat stack of towels and washcloths so we “girls” could wash up before bed…

Girl…it’s been a long time since I’ve been one, yet I am ever one to my mom…just as mine are to me. It’s hard to use that word…woman…it seems so far from their childhood, the childhood that I remember and shared with them. Their womanhood is shared in bits and pieces…and some of the sharing has been hard, even painful, to bear.

To call them girls, is easier for me, just as calling me a girl, is easier for my mom.

As I watched my mom bustle around her home, her kitchen, fixing my coffee “just right”, fussing over Krislynne like a mother hen…I’m reminded that I did the same with Clementine. Wanting to baby her, to smooth the way and give her ease and comfort…

It’s what we do, isn’t it? Fuss and worry, fix that favorite meal…when all we really want to do is just fix home firmly in mind and heart.

And fixed it is.  She takes home with her, wherever she goes.  Her memories and our love.

They are constant, unchanging and irrevocable…home is where the heart is.

Blessings,