Yesterday, while Quinn was sleeping in the back of the car, I drove down to the part of town where the picture above was taken. I drove down all the old streets where I would walk and play when I was four or five and I went past the place where I went to kindergarten. It's such a trip, to revisit these places and try to remember what it was like then. A sun soaked movie plays in my head while I look at the overgrown weeds and peeling paint and feel a bit sad about idyllic days gone by. 

I get lost in old photo albums that are falling apart and try to hang on to memories and moments that are thirty years old. I visit the old farm and rescue artifacts that belonged to family members, desperately trying to breath new life into them. I meet a long lost sister and wonder how so much time has passed in which I didn't know her. 

Coming home is a nostalgia filled, whirl wind trip in which I try to cram as many people and new memories in as possible. It's never long enough. I wish I could relax, take the time to reflect on each moment fully before the next one starts, but I can't. Each person and moment comes at me full speed and all I can do is surrender and be present.

It's hard, to want to reach into the past and pull out strands to take home with me, when I don't have enough time to sift through everything. I want to take it all with me, pack all these things into a box and take them to my new home. But they are just things and what I really want is more time here.

All I can do is enjoy each day. The stories, about what is happening here, will have to wait for when I return to my own home and can take the time to tell them right. Being with my family is always wonderful. The visit to the farm revealed more details. The Sand Hills inspired us to take some incredible photos. Meeting my sister was more amazing than I could have hoped for. I will tell you about it soon, but for now I must get back to just being here, because I will waste what little time I have by writing about it now.