Our Home Story
"I am terrible with goodbyes," I say. We take one last picture. The van drives away. We go back inside. There are only two breakfast plates left. The painting of a vibrant red rose greets me. Love, it seemed to say. The guest room is cleaned. A frame sits on the side table. On the wall, the white rose painting hung. Quiet, it gently said. I am terrible with goodbyes. Time flies so fast. The days are too short. I need more than sixty minutes in an hour. The words flow. Laughter fills every room. Stories are told. Many of them, one after another. Movies. Food. Family. Travel. School. Careers. Passion. Love. Life. Home. I am terrible with goodbyes. Tyler, our Dutch Shepherd looks at the bags and luggage lined up at the gate, whimpers. Or maybe it is just his ears bothering him. Garret peers into the guest room, eyes questioning. "Where are they, Mama?' he seemed to ask. I remember the day. I am wrapped in an embrace so tight. I have never been hel