04.25.14  When we left California to drive home Monday morning, my granddaughter, getting ready to go to her third grade class, said to me, “Grandma, I don’t like how it feels to say goodbye to you.”

As we drove north out of the Bay area and up into the Sierra Nevada mountains, it was silent in the car.  Finally, we chatted about the lack of snow in Lake Tahoe, the California drought, the route we would take east.  We don’t talk anymore about how wrenching it is to say goodbye to our little ones; we just know it hurts to say goodbye.

These long drives allow us time to sift through the tears and to frame the memories we will keep in our hearts.  And we begin to look forward to home.  We know that “it won’t look much different”, as Don always says in April, and it won’t feel like Spring has sprung anymore than when we left.  Indeed, we’re still adding snowpack in the mountains and rainy days are endlessly forecasted.  But, there are tufts of daffodils in town, greener buds on the bushes, and the robins sing in a full chorus in the mornings  And, it’s good to be home, get my feet back on the ground, let the rhythm of my own life help me ride along with the inevitable waves of joy and sadness which are part of this journey.   At home, I can get quiet enough to take in the long view of family and love.