Precious

I stepped into a time capsule this week as I started cleaning out my new living quarters.  I've just settled into the front bedroom of my grandparent's house.  This is the very room that my mom and aunt grew up in, and the room that I played in for a great part of my childhood summers and afternoons.  The smell was so familiar.  I remembered the exact creaks of the soft pink bed.  the cool marble topped dresser felt just the same.  The antique secretary's desk still bears the small scars I inflicted years ago (that day was the only time I have ever seen my grandmother cry).

As I wheeled the wobbly office chair in front of that small desk and opened it, I simply froze.  It looked as if it hadn't even been opened in sixteen years.  There sat the stencils and rainbow crayons I used to make greeting cards and pictures.  Slipped in one of the envelope slots was a note from a childhood friend.  A wildly imaginative EKG and Death Report sat squarely atop one of the small piles of papers, and one of my earliest attempts at poetry had been perfectly preserved -- all of it was just waiting for me.

It definitely feels very strange to be back here -- to be an adult in this place.  I realize though, that nowhere else in the world could make me feel so at home.  I am so incredibly blessed by this opportunity.  These few days here are definitely precious.

Enjoying the lazy pace,

Holly