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.