The road to home is loaded with a million memories. That long strip of 35-mile-per-hour asphalt has rolled beneath my tires through more late night dates, trips to work, the beginning of adventures with friends and the end of weary days of both work and school.
I could never tell all the stories that road has seen, even if I tried. But for almost 20 years, it has lead to home.
The trees are bigger in the backyard now but playing barefoot in the grass still has its same old charm.
My first days of blissful vacation in Reno were filled with sushi, brothers, trampoline jumping, movie-watching, neighborhood runs and fresh strawberries. For two weeks (give or take), I will be visiting family while David is back in Utah studying like a good med student should.
In the few days that I have been “home,” the outpouring of love and support has been unbelievable. Anyone and everyone who knows my parents have gotten together and are “praying” us into California for rotations. On Sunday, people who couldn’t possibly know my husband came up to me and said they were praying for him to do well on his test. Monday morning, I woke up to find a pile of beautiful clothes on my bed. They belonged to a friend of my sister’s who said she just didn’t need them anymore.
Who does these things!?
The people in Reno, that’s who.
Every street that I go down here is filled with almost 20 years of amazing memories. After all of our adventures, travelling the road home is good for the soul.
