Most of us have signs or landmarks that remind us when we are almost home. For me, it is this stand of trees on a hill not far from the border where Devon becomes Cornwall. I call them The Dancing Ladies and they are always a sign that in just a few minutes everything that is troubling or tiring will be neatly put to rest as we turn off the main road and point our car towards the narrow lane that leads home.
We took my sister Margaret to the airport this morning with John driving just under 500 miles roundtrip and I was delighted to see my dancing ladies on our way back. Although it was not a short trip, it is nothing compared to one she has before her with several plane changes and a long layover in Germany before reaching Alaska.
My sister and her family recently moved to a new location having lived near Anchorage, Alaska for many years. There is a bridge you drive under as you get closer to her former home and people often hang signs of welcome from it painted on large sheets with brightly colored paint making it seem like a perfect landmark.
Although we did not talk about it, I feel sure that since moving a few months ago she has likely found something that signals her new home is close by and her daily journeys are at an end.
I don’t know what new images mark her way home now, but I imagine that nothing could whisper or shout ” You’re home ” better than the welcoming sight of her husband and children who will be waiting at the airport. It is the first time Margaret has been away from her boys for more than a week and I think after a month here with me, they will be all the landmark she needs to feel welcomed and at home.
The place I get to where I really feel I’m home is when you’re heading west in State 412 and you dip down over this huge hill and before you is the Keystone Lake/Arkansas River — then you flatten out and drive a bridge across the lake/river and then once I’m past it I’m “home” – although it’s still a good 15- to-20 minutes to my parents’ house from there.
How odd to see the cars on the left of the guardrail.
When in England…
On the prairie, there’s not much in the way of landmarks, so I don’t think much about what’s what.
Well, maybe the gray barn about 5 miles NE and near the exit off the interstate might send away some of my road weary thoughts.
Love this post, and Kim B’s comment as well.
Here in Sydney, when we drive over the Spit Bridge (yes, that’s the name, to reflect a spit of land and water that’s part of Sydney Harbour), Clive always says,’ Now we’re in God’s country.’ That’s the Northern Beaches, where we live.
Aaahahh, coming home — there’s nothing like it, is there?
Cheers (from soon-to-be-moving-to-a-new-home) xxoo
I never thought about the landmarks that show me my way home before, but what a neat post this was! I rarely live in one place longer then a year, so that may be why! So glad you all had such a wonderful time together….my brother and I are spending more time together now and it has been awesome.
Love those trees, I always think they are a spiritual landmark, they remind me of druids, having a hilltop ceremony.
Hope you will share more of your photos of your sisterly sojourn.
I love your dancing ladies. I drive a pass through a forest to get home from my rare trips to the “big city” and there’s nothing like coming over the top of the hill and descending into my beautiful rural valley.
Dancing Elizabeth, now at home to rest for a little while….:-) …and sort photos!
I’m sure she’ll be happy and relieved to be back with her family. And – I love your dancing ladies. How beautiful!!!