Currently we’re spending our Sundays at the Church of Perpetual Home Improve-ment. Or we get down on bended knee at Our Lady of Lowe’s, searching the shelves for deck screws or the right shade of sanded grout for the tile.
We did make it to Atlanta Unity Church on Easter. Reverend John greeted us at the sanctuary door, and, per his habit, asked about our progress on the house. He remarked on our courage to live out our dream. He’s glad to share it vicariously through us, but he has no interest in pursuing a similar adventure.
Reverend John loved living in Hawaii, but it’s the mountains that speak to his soul. He explained once that the wide open plains do the same for his wife Brenda. The prairie with its tall grasses swaying in the wind move her to a place of peace and beauty. He grew up in the South, not the Midwest, and was surprised to learn about Brenda’s soul place.
I’m not. Even now I can picture the red-winged blackbirds soaring through the wheat fields surrounding my parents’ home. I can hear the whippoorwills calling to one another and smell the new-mown hay. The memories come with a sigh and a mixture of longing and sadness.
Will I grow to love the sea as much? Or will a horizon bare of trees and grass, flowers and shrubs drive me crazy?