Filled Up

I am home.

Roy and I flew out this past Thursday and ultimately landed at my sister's house in Arlington, Texas. Tami and I got up on Friday morning and headed to Oklahoma where we spent the weekend with Dad and Jo, Mom, and my other sister Lori. Chas and Roy joined us Saturday evening and then the four of us headed back to Texas late Monday morning. That is the skeleton of our trip.

We ate like pigs. We ate blackberry pie and apricot pie and homemade ice cream and barbecue and fresh garden veggies and Huhots and homemade bread and homemade cinnamon rolls and the list just keeps on rollin'.  Hey! My stomach isn't hurting anymore from all the food I've shoved down my throat! I should eat some more! That seemed to be our theme song. But my word...it was all so delicious and it's a good thing I don't live there or I might be literally rolling my way around.

I am filled up.

Dad and Jo built their house on the property my dad grew up on and that we, as kids, grew up on as well. I spent practically every weekend at my grandparents' home as Dad farmed on the weekends--wheat and cattle. My grandparents spent the bulk of their married life in a small, A-frame house with blue siding, surrounded by a chicken coop and barns and wheat fields and cattle. It had an upstairs and we could hear the mice running in the attic at night when we slept. I always envisioned them pulling chains along the floor up there as it was loud and clanging. I used to worry that I would wake up with a nest in my hair, built by the mice, as I read about that happening in one of the Little House books by Laura Ingalls Wilder.

Dad sewed wheat and ran cattle on the Moore Place which was, in the beginning, my mom's grandparents' land--the Moore's. This piece of land is about ten miles from my grandparents' and we spent many many hours over there working fence and running cattle and taking Dad jars of iced tea and sandwiches while he drove the tractor. As a little girl, I would ride on the bales of hay as my sisters would throw them, one by one, up on the flat-bed trailer as we went 'round and 'round the wheat field. The Moore Place holds so many good memories for me--hiking down red dirt trails and swimming in the creek that runs through it, riding horseback on Snip and Red, racing the four-wheelers down country roads, the dust swirling up behind us.

Every time I go to Oklahoma, Dad drives me in his pickup to the Moore Place and it always touches my heart in ways that nothing else can. That land is home and family and tradition and sunsets and golden wheat and grazing cattle and hard work and full hearts. It all is, really. Oklahoma? It's just Home.

On Saturday night, the five of us (Dad, Chas, Tami, Lori, and me) played Rook, call-partner style.  We played three games and I can safely say I haven't laughed so hard or so much in a very, very long time. Oh my word--it was so much fun. Dad is a genuine Rook player as he can hang with the big guys who play for blood down at the Co-op every week. Chas is a thoughtful player who gives utmost consideration to every play. We three girls? We just play by the seat of our pants and the combination of it all proved rather hysterical.

Of course, spending time at Mom's was its own respite for my soul. One of my mom's sweetest features, I think, is how she sets a table. She uses her best dishes and always has matching placemats and cloth napkins. All of the food is in nice dishes--no pots and pans for her. And she served the most delectable fare from the garden. My mom? She's a workhorse and one would never dream that she just turned 80 years old. She waits on us and is as spry and sharp as someone my age. She's simply amazing.

Going home just gets sweeter and sweeter. I loved every second of my time there.

When Jace was 18 months old, he absolutely adored airplanes. One time during that period, we flew to California and I was so concerned about a three hour flight with a baby. But he was absolutely perfect as he was so enamored with being on a plane. We managed to sit by a wing so he could stare out the window and see as Roy explained to him what was going on. As other people's babies fussed and cried, I gloated in pride as mine sat perfectly still and stared out the window.

And then we landed.

As other babies were ushered off the plane, their sobs subsided, my baby had a full-on meltdown. He was absolutely devastated that the plane ride was over and his little body thrashed and kicked and hollered as though the world was ending.

When I said goodbye to my family to head back home? I wanted to be Jace in that moment. I wanted to thrash and holler and kick. I wanted to hold on tightly and never let go.

I am, of course, home now. And I am alive with the memories of the most amazing weekend with family, with those I love the most in this world, at the place that speaks home like none other.

I am filled up.