Jesse's mom flew home today, and we're once again reminded of how much we miss home. Just this past Saturday, I was getting ready for the day when the brush in my hand paused. I heard home. It was a light swooshing noise, set to a distinct rhythm that could only be found along a shoreline. I knew it wasn't possible, but convincing my ears of it was a different story. I set the brush down and investigated--and I chuckled when I discovered my mistake.DC has had unseasonably warm weather the past several days. The end of January has felt much more like spring. It's hard to believe that two years ago, we were buried beneath four feet of snow. Due to the warm weather, we've opened our windows to allow the cool breeze to drift in and replace the need for A.C. Because after all, who in the northeast uses A.C. in January???
I quickly realized that my jogged memory bank was being teased by the traffic outside. Who knew traffic on 395 could sound so pleasing--so relaxing--so much like home. I suppose the moral of the story is...well actually, I'm not sure we need a moral.I'm content with my tidal sounds of traffic and this scrumptious breakfast sandwich.
Pictures of Mom's visit are soon to come...
No comments:
Post a Comment