My Safe Place to Land
Last weekend I drove to Iowa to move my parents from their home of 40 years on the farm to their new home in town. I was five years old when they moved into this house. I have no memory to speak of, of any home before this one. As the week drew shorter leading up to the move, I found myself feeling very emotional. As I received updates from my sister on the state of the move, I would cry, or be sad, or find myself just sitting and looking at pictures trying to burn them into my head. I was so afraid that once mom and dad moved from the house, I would forget everything. And in this case, everything meant a great portion of my life. Like somehow THIS house contained my childhood, good times and sad times, and when it was gone……that would be too. So I started making a list of things I didn’t want to forget. I didn’t want to forget the dinging sound that the flagpole made when t...