Home

Robert Frost wrote, "Home is where, when you go there,
they have to take you in." It is that, but to me it is some-
thing so much more personal and wonderful.

As long as my parents were alive, I had two homes--the
physical abode where my husband, my children and I
lived and , of course, where our parents lived.
For as long as one of them was alive, that was where
we went for Christmas, during the summer and many
other times. We went as often as we could so that
our two children would know and have an intimate
relationship with all four of their grandparents.

When my mother died, I knew she was in a better,
pain-free place and that she would not want to leave
it if she could. She had suffered so much and had
asked us to pray for her to go; it was very difficult
to let go, but I soon made peace with myself and
did move on.

When my sisters and I lost our dad, we felt as though
we were orphans, loose, without an anchor. I know now
that my parents were indeed anchors and that we were
cast adrift in the world trying to cope with the loss and
stay on track for our own children.

For the past week and a half we were in Mississippi
visiting our son and his family. My grand daughter
Chelsea really stole my heart as she does every
time I go, and part of me wanted to stay and part of
me could hardly wait until I was back "home" in my
own abode and doing the daily chores that make my
place here a home.

It is so important to go and visit; it is also very
comforting to know that there is a place that
is entirely yours (meaning my husband and I)
and that it is a place where your children look
forward to returning, too. We are their
roots.