Welcome Home

Coming home for the holidays is always a wonderful thing, but the experience is amplified when you've been so far away for so long. Yes a whole year isn't really that long compared to the time other immigrants have waited to see the loved ones they left behind, but it is awhile and I am glad to be seeing everyone.

My mother greeted me as a bundle of vibrating, bouncy, teary joy holding these gorgeous flowers:
Even though we drove home in the dark, this is what I was seeing in my mind's eye given how well I know the stretch of road from Portland to the little valley in the foot hills of the coastal range where I grew up:


and then nothing quite says home like the back porch, particularly my back porch which is where key things like gum boots, drinking water, fire wood, and in recent years the hot tub all reside.
Perhaps it is not all that shocking that I find the Kiwi experience more 'home like' than some of the cities I lived in in America. I honestly didn't find too many porches like mine in Chicago and Boston, but I think I could probably find a few in New Zealand without too much effort!