One day last week at work I got to tell the story about the squirrels who would steal the socks from the clothesline that Mom always put out on the deck. Dad was sitting in his chair, and happened to see, out of the corner of his eye, a critter with sock in mouth scurry up the tree. And when he looked up the tree, he saw some other socks weaved into the nest. Until then, Mom couldn’t understand how so many socks went missing.

When I go home in a few weeks I want the green gingham pillow with my name on it, from when I was little. And I want my mother’s date nut bread recipe.

When my mother was alive we would always get teary at the reveal on the make-over shows.  I still watch the make-over shows and I still get teary. It isn’t as much fun on the couch by myself.

I can’t wait to go home. July 2006


One Response to “Homesick”

  1. I can’t wait to go home either.
    I like it here, I suppose, but it’s not home.

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