It is a Sweet Road Home

You can't go home again, or....can you?

It's a long, long road

Back home again

A road, a long road,

but filled with memories

and stories

that get better every day.

A sweet road home.

There it is folks.  The Dawkins road.

My road.

My road of memories.

My daughter's road of memories.

Such a sweet road

and while it may be owned by someone else,

that road is my road,

my family's road

for nobody else can look at that road

through the same eyes as we do.

 

This is the drive (we called it a drive) we walked every school day to catch the bus.  Down there around the big cedar you see in the distance is where the house was.  If you look left (not pictured) you can imagine the main road running parallel to our drive.  One of us kids would be assigned to look out the north window to catch a glimpse of the school bus.  Once we saw it, we had just enough time to walk up the drive to where you see the gate to catch the bus. 

 

(I confess, even as a teenager, it killed me to walk home from the bus and not find mom at home.  The house always seemed cold when she was not there to greet us.  I always have been a sentimental slob.) 

 

The mailbox was located directly across from the gate and in the summer it was one of our chores (and I say chores because not one of us enjoyed walking to get the mail.  We always grumbled.  It was hot!). 

 

I learned to drive on that drive.  I drove up that road many times just to get practice.  Getting the mail was a treat then.  I have memories of backing up from the mailbox way too fast, throwing the car into forward gear a bit TOO fast, and the car fishtailing and kicking up gravel.  I wonder if Mom ever saw that.

 

When I was out on my own,

Married with children

There was the drive 

The drive that meant I was home.

 

You can go home again.

It will not be the same

for you will have only your memories.

But it is a sweet road home indeed. 

 

I love you!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!