 Image from elderhunterhull.blogspot.com pil·grim·age noun 1.) a journey, especially a long one, made to some sacred place as an act of religious devotion; 2.) any long journey, especially one undertaken as a quest or for a votive purpose, as to pay homage I've never been to Washington state, so I dig on the internet with gusto and look at places to see, "10 Things You Must Do In Seattle", images of the majestic Cascades, the iconic Space Needle, along with a host of touristy places that sound great from the marketing hype. But what I'm really wondering is how many of these places Mom knew. Did she stand at any of them? What was she thinking when she was there, if she was there? I want to put my footprints into a space where she stood, alive and whole, happy and carefree, and she is no longer here to ask where I should go. My husband is cooking dinner, as I scroll through pictures, restaurant reviews, and other various bits of Washington flotsam. I want an apple. I want her homemade applesauce, and I nearly stop my husband mid-stir to get him to take me to the grocery store so I can pick up what I need to make it the way she did. But I suck back the craving and the words, letting it go. I have a list now, of places we'll see while we're there. I've tucked it into a plain, brown notebook that I'll slip inside my purse before we leave for the airport on Thursday. "We're taking mom home," my husband quietly says to me. I choke on a sob. It's where she wanted to go. Her ashes will nurture the soil, the lake, catch on a breeze and float out into the night. But really, home is where she lives inside of me, inside of all who love her. Home is where her soul resides, in Heaven, with my son and so many other loved ones who have "passed", on Earth, in our hearts, and scattered among the growing things, still vibrant with life on this plane of existence. "I don't live anywhere; I live everywhere", her spirit seems to say, as her fingerprints are left on so many things, places, people. I take a deep breath and gather my courage. We're coming, Mom. Soon, now...very soon.  Wenatchee River Image from Panoramio.com
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About The Author
I grew up in rural North Carolina. When I was only nineteen, I moved away and became a military wife. My only aspiration at that tender time in my life was to create an adult life that "fixed" all of the "injustices" of my childhood. Secretly, however, I wanted to reach for the sky! I wanted to be a writer and find ways to "save the world" (my mother used to say, "You have Save the World Syndrome".). Mostly, I wanted to matter. Archives
December 2017
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