Home

January 5, 2012 By Kelle

Home has had a double meaning this week, defining both going home and coming home–the former nostalgic and inspiring; the latter–well, the same, I guess. Knowing last night was our last among such a different landscape–one that had me slayed and hesitant to give up–I obsessively drank it in. I took two walks on the snowy trail behind my cousin’s house yesterday, each with a different child.

My cousin Joann, who might as well just be a sister.

I watched more attentively as the sky changed from a cold white to an elusive periwinkle come dusk.

I made note of how cozy it was to fall asleep between my girls, under the warmth of an electric blanket, lulled to sleep by wind that whistled outside a frosty window. And I breathed in the contentment of knowing just past our bedroom door was a hallway that led to family. Little cousins, big cousins. That has been the best part of all of this.

The girls offered their help with Cousin Brooklyn’s homework. Brooklyn even let Lainey write in some answers…because it was just a “rough draft.”

I lived in Michigan for twenty-four years and never realized that snow-dusted pines or the silhouette of a bare-boned tree against icy blue sky was so breathtaking. I don’t know if it’s being away for so long, growing up, or gaining more photographic perspective, but Good Lord, I could not shut up about just how picturesque my home state is.

Houghton Lake

I took a gazillion photos, practically hopping out of the back seat while the car was still moving to catch a barn in the snow, a bird in the snow, a vibrant-colored anything against the cold white snow. A little something I learned: I dig snow photography. So much, I made my cousin’s girls brave the wind one afternoon for a sister shoot.

And I was shocked at just how much my sun babies loved the change in pace. They never complained about the cold–not once.

I love when sisters hold hands, unprompted.

Lainey and I made a snow bunny yesterday, my snow specialty.

He now resides in my cousin’s garage freezer.

Followed by hot cocoa.

Favorite moments?

Thinking so many times to myself, “Lainey will never ever forget this trip.” I imagined how she will describe it years from now–how it carved little grooves in her memory of the importance of family, the thrill of adventure, the inspiration of new places and experiences.

Giving the girls nightly baths in the big tub and all the cousin girls coming in to the bathroom to circle the tub and talk while they soaked.

A true Michigan welcome of grilled venison tenderloin dinner.

Cousin time.

Thank you, Lisa, for coming up to see us! xoxo

Following trails of snow tracks and listening as Lainey hypothesized on all the things it could be. She concluded it was “a scary kitty.”

Watching the budding walker. She’s been walking for a while, but this trip she really walked. Like determinedly. Falling down and getting right back up. And she likes to wear glasses while she does it. They’re courage glasses.

Getting to attend my little cousin’s cheer practice and watching my girls adoringly take it in.

Seeing Lainey stop and drop a snow angel like it was her job.

Cocoa mustaches.

Anything red in the snow. Barns, walls, scarves. They’ve got a thing going there, that red and white combo.

And finally, I am loving coming home. A different one that might not have bewitching tree skeletons in the snow or icy blue night skies or evergreen trails that beg for walks with blankets and mittens and hats, but still nostalgic and inspiring–warm and energetic. As our plane descended into Fort Myers tonight, I began gathering our coats and hats with which we boarded and tucking them away in our carry-on. The vast blue Gulf slowly came into view, its waters magically catching the light from the late afternoon sun. I was again inspired with new perspective. How wonderful it is to live by the sea.

It was strange walking in tonight, the tree still lit, toys we forgot about lined against bedroom walls, the familiar scent of “our home” drawing me in. It took being gone so long to come back and realize our home has a scent–a welcoming, cozy signature scent that is ours.

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with the stomach flu–so bad, I was certain we’d have to change our flight. But I knew it was time to come home, and I was ready. After the most trying flight of my life (girls were great, I was a hot mess), I can’t tell you what a relief it was to walk in our home tonight and feel the comfort of our own space and the promise of what it holds for this year.

I am ready to embrace new creativity and the productive storm that follows a good needed rest. I am so inspired by this past week–just the fuel I need.

Wherever home may be, there are so many ways to appreciate it.

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