This week we finally loaded up our car for the long ride home. We waved farewell to our sweet little cabin that my Grandpa built with his own two hands, and kissed him and Grandma, and the rest of our Kansas family goodbye.
Each time I go back it gets so much harder to leave. My heart aches as I watch the red dirt roads disappear behind us, and I try my hardest not to cry...but leaving Kansas is never easy.
Not only do I miss my family, but I miss being in the country. I long to be surrounded by nothing but fields of wheat, wild flowers and prairies, and being able to see the night sky in all it's splendor.
I miss the sweeping clouds that will march through an afternoon sky on a whim, completely overtaking the sun and any sign of light, convincing us all that it's actually the middle of the night, rather than the middle of the day.
I don't know if I've ever felt anything closer than the hand of God, than being below, and center, at the mercy of the sky when those purple clouds roll in.
I do know though that we have a home here in Ontario, in the city, and whether or not it's permanent, and even though it's lacking in my beloved windmills, it's still a home. A good, safe and happy home.
This is where we met and fell in love, this is where our children were born.
I try to remind myself how much we've been blessed with the home that we've made here, and the family that we have. We really are, truly blessed.