Kicking off Small Moments Mondays, a series of guest posts focusing on the little moments in life, the moments that can be so easily taken for granted if we don’t slow down to savor them, is Kris from Pretty All True.
If you’re really lucky, you meet a handful of people in life with whom you feel an immediate connection. These people are a gift, whether it’s because they make you feel comfortable, encourage you to stretch yourself, help you to laugh, or offer you tremendous kindness that simply envelopes you. Kris embodies all of these qualities and I can’t believe my good fortune for having met her.
One of the things that I admire most about Kris is the way that she fully embraces each moment of life. Perhaps as a result of a childhood that offered her far more than her share of heartache or because of the beautiful little family that she has built, Kris savors life in a way that I truly admire. When I was in the early stages of brainstorming this idea, she immediately came to mind, as she, though sarcastic and quick witted, appreciates the beauty in her life.
Though the first thing I noticed about Kris was her amazing sense of humor and her ability to tell stories that pull you in and make you feel as though you are somehow a part her world, she has a quiet tenderness and ability to make you feel as though you are important and loved that continually surprise me.
Thank you, Kris—for guest posting, for sharing your story, and for being my friend. I am grateful for you.
Here’s her reflection on a small moment from her life…
Going Home – by Kris
Some of my saddest memories from childhood are of going home.
My home was broken and jagged and filled with sharp shattered bits of unexpected pain and sorrow. It was my reality. And most of the time? There was just acceptance.
And so, at the end of the school day . . . at the end of a trip to the grocery store . . . at the end of a trip to the library . . . I would just go home. There was sadness and fear, but also a sense of inevitability. Resignation. This was my life. This was my family. This was my home.
I would go home.
There were a few times in my childhood when I left our home for more than just a day. It didn’t matter where I had gone . . . the contrast between this other place and my home sometimes seemed more than I could bear. My heart would ache with longing for this other that I could not have.
Then, always, there was a going home.
And as I stared out of the window on the journey back home? My throat would clench so that I couldn’t breathe. The pain was so tight and jagged it felt as though I was swallowing glass. The increasingly familiar landmarks would blur before my eyes.
A long time ago.
Today? I drove my daughters to a nearby state park and we rode our bicycles through the luscious humid green. Rode until we were exhausted and sweaty . . . in an enormous loop back to where we had parked the car.
“Daddy’s making lunch for us, right?” asks my older daughter as she clicks her seatbelt.
My younger daughter answers happily, “Yes! He said he was going to make hamburgers on the grill!”
I start the car. I crank the air conditioning. I switch on the radio.
I drive down the tree-lined path out of the park.
We haven’t lived in Oregon very long, and I still get confused about directions. So I sit at the park exit, trying to remember if I am supposed to turn to the right or the left. Honestly? I have no idea. Everywhere I look, everything is just green.
The GPS in our car? I love it. My favorite thing? There is this helpful touch-screen prompt, and when you select it? The car will give you directions home from wherever you happen to be at that moment.
And so I push it. The little prompt that says GO HOME.
I love going home. Every single time.
And that GO HOME prompt. It makes me smile. Every single time.
So I turn to the right.
“Ready for lunch, girls?”
“Yes!” My daughters yell in unison, “Let’s go home!”
It’s a small thing, really . . . it’s just going home.
But for me? Every single time?
I love to go home.