Sunday, January 3, 2010

Over the River and Through the Woods

We drove home last night from our Christmas vacation in Bozeman. As we drove, I couldn't help but think of the contrasts between the homes Jeremy and I have shared. How different it is returning to Pullman than to Silverdale, where the water suddenly opens up before you and the trees crowd out the sky above. Or to Omaha, where the pace quickens as you cross the bridge into the busy city and network of overpasses. Or to Garnett, as you twist ever higher into the mountains, peering over cliffs as the car attempts to maintain its course over the rock filled road. Last night we drove over rolling hills, golden even in the darkest days of winter as the sun set, rose, and set again while the road twisted and turned, up and down, over the gentle Palouse. Pullman does not welcome us with bright city lights, battleships, or tourists. Pullman is quiet, peaceful in these days before the college students all return from home. The blue city Christmas lights brightened the streets, empty even on a Saturday night.

I’m glad to be home to Pullman, to this house we’ve already been away from more than we’ve been in since we bought it. It is already familiar, like an old t-shirt. It’s stained, torn in a few places, faded and worn, but comfortable. Relaxed.

We’ve returned from an unexpected visit to Bozeman, where we were blessed to spend some precious days with Jeremy’s maternal grandmother as well as much of his extended family.
Sara and I enjoyed a shopping trip with Alex, playing dress up with him and finding a new wardrobe to cover his poor exposed mid section as he grows ever taller. His clothes were in such bad shape the when he received new socks and underwear for Christmas he was genuinely excited.
Isaac is living up to his title of “Little Monster” these days. He is exploring and testing, and simply up to no good. Today he managed to follow me right outside as I went to unload groceries from the car. As I turned around to return to the house, there he was tumbling down our front steps in his stocking feet into the mud and pine needles. We have quite the year ahead, I'm sure!
baby growth