One of my favorite pastimes as a young girl
was walking the footpath
between our home and the school I attended.
Those walks were high adventure for me:
shiny rocks to find,
birds to watch, lizards and horn-back toads to capture.
And when I made it to the large school yard
my dog and I would sit in the cool grass to pick dandelions
and watch airplanes pass overhead.
I'd linger as long as I could; but only for so long,
because my mom wanted me home before dark.
The shadows grew long and the trail got dark fast in the Mojave Desert.
I'd be wishing along the way that I was already home.
Our house sat on a corner lot, vacant except for the occasional abandoned car -
but the light was always on
until all the family was in.
Often, mom would be waiting in the tiny kitchen.
"Have a good day?" she'd ask.
"It was pretty good" I'd say,
"but I'm sure glad to be home".
Those memories of walking the desert make me think of another journey -
the one I'm making now.
It isn't always easy, but I know at the end of it there's a caring Father
and my eternal home.
I can hardly wait to get there.
I'm expected, the light is on
and my heavenly Father is waiting for me.
Maybe He'll ask, just like my mother always did
"How was your day?"
"Pretty good" I'll say.
"But it sure is good to be home"
"TalkerCat"
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