Close to Home

Image from here.

Today I took the boys for a picnic at Crestwood Park, the green space of my adolescence. All afternoon the wind stirred up the Russian Olive's musky mint, the Cottonwood's soft summer snow, and lots and lots of memories.

Crestwood Park is where Megan Eldredge and I walked every Sunday and swam every summer, playing Pooh Sticks on the bridge and practicing graceful exits from the pool. It's where I brought the Connor kids and the Barnes kids and the Morgan kids to play in the swings, where we played the limbo for my 14th birthday party. It's where I finally got the feel for the clutch in the old white truck--promising myself I wouldn't leave that parking lot until I could start fifteen times in a row without stalling. It's where I kissed the only other boy besides Wade who got through to Tight Lips Lindsay. It's where all 600 people who drove to my wedding parked their cars. It's where Baby Scotty and I strolled for Tuesday morning playgroup and I held his dimpled hand as he tumbled along the stepping stones.

I've always felt a strong connection to "the home place." My first crush was on the boy next door, I married the boy up the street, and (mortgage payments aside) my dream house could be one of many in the neighborhood. Of course living one's life within a 25-mile radius can bring smallness as well as security. I've watched family and friends strike out for adventure into lands unknown and wished my life would take an exciting turn or two of its own. This feels especially true with the news that my baby sister Kate is getting married (Huzzah!) and moving to Ithaca (Blast!) where she will join the family's growing East Coast contingent. I feel sort of like Beth in Little Women, who says "Why does everyone want to go away? I like being home. But I don't like being left behind."

But then Beth goes and dies . . . so that's enough of that comparison. And I imagine my little family's path has some meandering in store. In the meantime, I suppose life's lessons on hope and heartbreak, perspective and love feel pretty much the same wherever you land. For now, I'm glad to be studying them close to home.