Fly Away Home
September 17th, 2016 This morning I awoke to one of my greatest insecurities: I was going home. You know, home. Back to our nineteen-fifties house in the land of crystal blue lakes, mountain sightings by every turn, thicket in your backyard, and an accompanied coolness in every season; Beautiful British Columbia. I was going back to the house where my Momma taught me how to put my jam-making skills into money-making opportunities, where my Dad taught me how to set a volleyball. Where I've inhabited three out of three available bedrooms (designated for the children) because it seems that each season of my life calls for a different space. Back to the only home I have ever known. One would never suspect five people as large as us could survive in our small house; and yet, survive we do. It's also--somewhat thanks to its smallness-- the house where a mechanical dishwasher is prayed for. And even though we've lived there for over seven years, Mom still thinks that the living