ruby slippers

This post goes down smoothly with a shot of Lyle Lovett:


Repeat after me: There's No Place Like Home. There's No Place Like Home. There's No Place Like Home.

Three clicks and I'm home.

More like 10 hours on an airplane. TEN HOURS.

I found myself hoping for the rain. Please just rain a little. Give me some mist. Give me the pit pat pit pat tippity tap of the rain against the window as I fall asleep.

In high school I would float away in my thoughts as the rain splashed into the pond outside my window, as it pattered against the window pane, as the frogs would ribbit along with this song. I would crack open my window and soak in the sounds of pure calm. I would leave my window open as I slept through the night, curled up in extra blankets, because that sound is worth any cold that may sneak in.






















As my dad says, we are camera challenged. I failed to take any pictures our entire trip. The pictures posted are simply from google searches. Regardless, the picture above is of the historic street in their perfect town. You can't see the perfectly cute stop light posts. Seriously. Even the stop light posts. I forgot how great this place is in the 9 years I have been away. Maybe it's better with time and maybe it's more appreciated as an adult, without teenager concerns.

Because it's sunny, you can see over 20 hang-gliders carving through the sky and back again to the nearby mountain. Floating magically way up there in the sky, against the backdrop of a totally green mountain. Because in Seattle they are all green.

In the front yard are decorative grass clumps. hmmm... there are also little trees, which will become big trees. There are plans for dwarf fruit trees, a variety, in rows like a miniature orchard or vineyard. There are flowers that are beautiful, including colorful cala lilies. (which may not be spelled right, even though I googled it). These and some very specific type of daisy were planted by my mom, in haste before a second, RE-DO foot surgery.

Behind their home is a backyard. Behind the yard is a fence. Through the fence is wilderness. In the wilderness are slugs. Lots of slugs. and wild blackberry bushes, and lots of trees. Trees covered in wet beautiful moss. At the edge of this wilderness is more wilderness, which is a creek, which is more like a small river. Behind the rive-like creek is a mountain. We walked down to the creek with my mom and dad. Each of us with gloves on to protect against the blackberry bushes. My Dad in bright orange waders, with a machete in hand. He pointed out deer tracks down the path and hacked away unruly blackberry tangles.

In their home is a beautiful baby grand piano. My mom plays it beautifully. My dad, on a special occasion may play a hymn on it. My mom plays and sings. Specifically, for Eliza, she played and sang Blues in the Night. To which, Eliza sang quietly along. I plunked out a few songs that I loved growing up, like Master, the Tempest is Raging.

In their home is a beautiful kitchen, in which my mom makes wonderful foods. Like mango chicken, which sounds sweet, but is actually quite hot and delicious.

In their home is a storage closet downstairs, filled with grown-up and absent children's belongings. My old porcelin doll with the frizzy hair, cheerleading outfit, old books and trinkets. A box for Kelli, and Jake, and Amy, and Kristen. All full of memories not always remembered until held.

There are more pictures of children and grandchildren than necessary, but perfectly placed and much appreciated. Eliza doesn't recognize me in my dance costumes from when I was about her age. I, however, remember each dance recital associated with each costume. Mom and Dad, Grandmas and Grandpas smiling and clapping and hugging.


In their home is so much love it might explode.



















Eliza, my Dad, and I drove to Snoqualmie to hike down to the falls. The trail down to Snoqualmie Falls was closed for that day and the next few days. But, we still took pictures, with a hastily purchased disposable camera, from the look-out points so that we can remember that we tried. We ate in this dumpy little bakery. It was delightful. We drove to Leavenworth, a little tourist village resembling Germany, as it was settled by Germans. There are no pictures to prove this, and there are not enough words to adequately describe this, but: I got to be with my Dad. ALL DAY. He's quite fun and brilliant. I soaked him in along with the beautiful view of the mountains. Eliza wasn't sure what to think at first. Her first time alone with Grandpa for an ENTIRE DAY!! He's actually silly. and funny. and I'm not sure she realized this. It may have taken her the majority of the day to adjust to this and be a little silly back, but she loved it. This serious little girl loves her grandpa. We both soaked him in. I didn't want it to end.
























Before Grandma's foot surgery we got to make our own Ugly Dolls, be silly, play games in restaurants, shop around, go to a play, and visit Pikes Place Market. It was a few days of utter chaos. and it too was perfect. How did she become a Grandma? The answer to this may seem obvious (sex or marriage, in my case marriage), but how did she instantly turn into Gramma? She is beautiful in this role, delving out love like fruit snacks.

We visited her in the hospital the two days before we left and played games. She had an eye patch the first night. Apparently, coming out of anesthesia makes people rub their eyes really hard and she scratched it. She was the closest to drunk she will ever be on the medication, and it was a riot. Eliza was offended that Dyan and I found Granma's drunkenness to be amusing. I couldn't tell a difference, she said. With one eye covered she couldn't seem to keep the other eye open. Uncoordinated. She would ask about her hair. Giggle. Hug Eliza. Make a silly comment. Play with the tape that held on the patch. Push against the covered eye. Pry her non-covered eye open. Giggle. Eliza cried saying goodbye the second night after playing Boggle. Telling Gramma in her mother's day card that she wished she could live there and see her almost every day. (she's so realistic she had to add the almost). I came home telling Joe that Issaquah is perfect and that I just have to live there. Have To!