Drifting and swaying as the eyes grow weary I cast upon my prayer list the request of returning home, where my heart remains. A place where judgment is tolerable and happiness blankets the fear of facing life burdens is a place in which only home can provide. Safety and security against dreary and weathered lines of age are the arms that catch this fallen heart. The return to childhood memories and a mother’s comforting reality check becomes the antibiotic required of home sickness.
An age old recipe, created among the ancestors, possessing vaporized steam, bouillon scents, a dash of salt and a hint of honey mixed in a small bowl while patience and love simmer hours within the paisley and flower printed crock pot warms the soul as laughter and orneriness awaits the remedy yielding a bulk of unconditional heart healing. Viruses linger among the ill as the shattered heart requires the gentle touch of a mom’s caress.
A walk down Viking Lane accompanied by the biggest fan provides reminiscence of whom and where dreams began. Once seen as jailhouse walls and confinement to life’s ambition, the school of Hard Knox trained and schooled the young to persevere with pride, gain victory within loss, hold steadfast to truth, live as if tomorrow was not promised, allow heartaches to mold love, sing as if the whole world wanted to hear, cruise with pouring rain and opened sunroofs, laugh with all and dream the impossible. The home of the Vikings, Huntington North High School is a stomping ground in which friendships, mentors, acquaintances, and even bullies defined the parameter of a foundational lifeline; a home where hearts were built. My mom is my biggest fan, even today; twenty years post.
A small town comprised of corn fields, flat land, and farmers alike welcome the drifters as they cross mile markers lessoning the gap between years gone by and the very roots in which the drifter ran from. The roots of heritage, family, is the road I travel today in hopes of mending ties and finding the Viking within; a woman who lost sight of dreams once attainable. Though I ran years ago and sought out comfort in the wrong classrooms, I embrace the humility of reaping what I have sown and will never cease in praying for the one way road trip home but for now I will walk with my daughters with perseverance and the hopes they will see me as their biggest fan, the mom who gave it all up for their safety and security.
Home is where the heart is. Huntington, Indiana, a small northeastern town (my hometown), is the place where my heart remains. My heart is held by its residents; a mom whom has loved unconditionally, a sister whom carries my admiration, a step-father who diminishes the "step", a family of aunts, uncles, cousins and grandparents that fragrances the colors of my personality and the familiar faces and spirit of a Wal-Mart congregational reunion dwell within my veins and feed the oxygen needed to keep this heart from failing, until the next visit.
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