On Missing...

I'm bundled up warm in my dad's car while writing this. The leaves slipping silently off the trees remind me of the autumns of previous years– in Oregon.

Everyone knows I miss Oregon. While I love Ohio, I do really miss my old home. But it's not just the area itself I miss, it's the memories:

Sweeping pine needles off the porch, waiting for Grandma to arrive.

Grandma. I miss her a lot.

The pumpkin patch we took her to, and how she stayed on the hayride while we picked out our pumpkins. That was when I started to realize that she was old. But it was a few years before her body finally failed her.

The rose garden, the zoo, the book store.

The church, with people I thought I'd always see everyday.

My New-Age neighbor, whose house I took care of. My Christian neighbor, whose garden I cared for. Her Iraqi husband, who made me chew ginger for a stuffy nose.

The concerts my mom performed in that were just right.

The warmth of fall and moderation of winter.

The trees in our backyard.

And yet, I don't totally want to go back. I would have a whole new list of things to miss:

The people at the church. The rooms I spent so much time in.

The snow falling– all winter.

The football.

The beautiful fall colors in this state that lacks pine trees.

The beautiful fog on summer mornings.

The history in this area.

The friend I laugh with all the time.

The friend who returns to this area!

The newness of life here.

Wherever you are, there's something to miss.

Or something to be thankful for...

Rejoice!