Home

It’s funny.  When I think of “home” I think of a few different places.

I think of the dry desert of Utah – my home state.  I love the “dirt” and browns.  They feel warm and comfortable.  Which is weird that I like it, because neither do I like to be warm, nor do I actually like to touch dirt – ick!

I also think of the long mountain ranges and canyons that Utah offers.  Really, I love the Wasatch Mountains.  I can’t imagine living my whole life not tucked up between mountain ranges.  When I went to BYU, people from out of state were always overwhelmed by living at the foot of a mountain.  I didn’t understand it them, but I do now.  Now that I have lived out of Utah.  These mountains can be a bit daunting, but oh do I love them!

This is another view of “home.” The Columbia River Gorge.  This is a view about 5 miles from my parents home in Washougal, Washington.  In the summer, it is much, much more green. When I make the drive from Utah, I can feel myself getting more and more excited as the Columbia River comes into view.  Not only is the view spectacular, but it is the signal that I am almost there and my 13 hour drive is about to be over.

Even the trees in the Northwest that are covered in moss feel like home.  Probably because everything is covered in moss in Washington – even the sidewalks.  Today I saw moss growing in between the door frame of my mother’s car – icky – but home.

However, the place that feels most like home . . .

Is my bed.  (Which I never make.)

Oh, the warmth and softness!

Oh, my 5-7 pillows!

Oh, my quilts! (This one was made by my mom!)

Oh, my 600 thread count sheets! (Which died a few weeks ago and I need to replace.)

This is home.  It moves with me no matter where I live.  It is always inviting.  It is always there for me.  I do believe it loves me and misses me when I’m away.

At least I hope so, because I sure do miss it!