Home

I think of home and how the wind from the sea forces a cascade of waves along the stretch of the field. How the chickens who are just shy of laying age can let out a squawk and send me running toward them on their behalf.  When I get close, I slow my pace preparing myself for what I might see-blood and feathers.  Instead I see a congregation of hens cackling together in a way that sounds like they are all taking turns laughing in response to a good joke.  I miss all those things and more.  I miss watching my youngest sleep, long limbs every which way sprawled helter skelter across her bed.  Her little red dog, sleeping on his back belly up pressing  against her.  I miss how Rex snuggles between Jerry and I each morning needing some persuading, usually reluctant, yet free with the kisses and love.  I miss watching my husband read.  The house quiet.  I just stare.  What would I do without these simple pleasures? I know, I would miss home.