"why are you taking your linens to camp with you..."
my daughters asked as we packed the car for the
long drive across kansas towards the home of our
hearts...a place tucked high up in the arkansas valley
where we lived from june until august...
sheets and pillowslips, quilts and towels stacked on
top of jeans and boots, sweatshirts and bathing suits...
how do i tell them that taking these precious few things
of home with me is as much a part of the summer as
rodeos and swim tests, barbeques and bunkhouse night..
seeing my room draped in tiny white fairy lights, over-bleached
sheets and quilts folded at the end of the bed, makes me feel
like a child coming home to her mother's house...
I open the door to this place that has sheltered my heart and
mended its ragged edges when it shattered into a million shards
of tear-stained sorrow, and it is home...
so, i bring my old sheets, the quilts I have carried back and forth
across kansas like a pioneer wife, and strings of fairy lights, and
something in me is no longer a child without an address to call
her own...
i am home...if only for a few weeks each summer....i am home...
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