Pages

Mar 6, 2009

Consider this a postcard

By the time you read this, I will be sitting quietly in the Denver International Airport with nothing but a cell phone and a good book to keep me company.

I won't be responsible for controlling the diapers, crayons, sippy cups, fruits snacks, strollers, sticky hands, unruly cowlicks, embarrassing comments, or inappropriate bodily functions of minors. A diaper bag will not be found in my vicinity.

For about 60 hours, I am giving up the roles of Behavior Police, Nursemaid, Nanny, Taxi Driver, Janitorial Engineer, Head Chef, Homework Monitor, Taskmaster, and Church Time Entertainer.

Instead of managing a toddler's afternoon nap, I might take one myself. And then my plane will land in a forest of evergreens and cloudy skies, the place a piece of my heart still calls home.

I'm heading out for a dose of the familiar, the beloved. A weekend with some fabulous girlfriends of my former home. I can hardly wait for the hugs, the conversations, the laughter, the togetherness.

Ah, the togetherness.

Together, these friends and I will party it up at this delightful event:


And this one:

I'm sure we'll also enjoy a whole lotta chitchat and giggling and catching up on the last nine months.

I'll get to sit in church, shoulder to shoulder with comrades from the not-so-distant past, the ones who have shaped so much of who I am as a grown-up. And squirmy little boys won't dictate when or why I leave the meetings.

I'm kinda thinkin' I won't want to come back.

But of course I will.

And when my plane touches down in an urban sea of blue sky, brown grass, and hibernating trees, another piece of my heart will be home.
Post a Comment

pass it on!

Bookmark and Share