One year ago today we had lunch with my mom in Sandy, Utah. James and DeDe joined us. We sat outside in the summer air and ate our turkey sandwiches and laughed.
One year ago today we loaded our suitcases and weighed them on my mom's pink bathroom scale to make sure they didn't exceed 50 pounds each. One of the suitcases contained a frying pan.
One year ago today we drove in my Mom's van to my dad's shop. He came outside and we hugged and laughed a little and hugged one more time.
One year ago today we drove to the airport and unloaded our heavy suitcases on the curb. I hugged my mom in an unbreakable clutch and we cried. I hate goodbyes.
One year ago today my mom left us at the airport and drove directly to the hospital to welcome my beautiful niece Abby. Goodbye. Hello.
One year ago today we boarded a plane. Lucy sat in her kennel beneath my feet, mildly sedated. We traveled 2200 miles while we watched Kung Fu Panda and ate beef tips with mashed potatoes.
One year ago today we rode in a shuttle van from the airport to the house of some new friends. We were stuck in traffic for hours. We were so tired--physically, emotionally--and the brake lights and orange cones seemed to never end.
One year ago today we refused to wonder if we had made a horrible mistake.
One year ago today we found our way to the quiet house of our friends. They were away on vacation, but left a welcoming note for us and fresh towels. We laid down on a foreign mattress and fell asleep to the sounds of the summer bugs outside. The next day we would buy a house, an air mattress, and a sheet cake. The house to live in, the mattress to sleep on until our stuff arrived, and a sheet cake to make everything all right.
One year ago today we left home to come home.