The rain is falling gently, bathing the Tennessee beauty in melancholy. It’s one of those times that the weather sings out wordless melodies that tell the story of my heart.
Exactly four years ago yesterday we moved from Tennessee to Texas. Once you live in a city, have babies there, and make friends, your heart forever holds ties to that place.
Leaving is a happy-sad experience.
Our hearts are heavy with goodbyes. We have run all over town, hugging the necks of shiny, happy people, but even still, we haven’t seen everyone we love here.
There’s a lot of love in Tennessee.
This morning my children came and laid in my bed, waiting for me to rouse myself awake enough to make hot cocoa and buttery toast. As we walked downstairs, they lamented that we were leaving, they lamented that their friends who have been staying with us have gone back to their own houses.
A week at the epicenter of a party leaves our family of six feeling a little sparsely populated, I suppose.
But sitting here, gazing out at the rain gently falling, my heart feels full and ready to gather up our little band of love and take the long road home.
Texas beckons with its big sky and breathtaking hill country. Home calls out to our hearts, and we point the wheel toward our cozy little nook in Austin.
It’s time to go home.
