Sitting beside me on the bleachers at Baylor's softball practice, Anna stops me from reading to her to comment, "Mom, this is a fun place. There are kids playing over there (motioning to the playground surrounded by mature trees), and kids learning there (tipping her head toward the ball field). Why do I know so many people here?" "Because we're in Forsyth, and all the kids who go to your school live in either Maroa or Forsyth." In addition to younger kids coming off of or heading onto various fields that knew her from the sitter's or because of Baylor or Jameson, there were a few teachers and some of her classmates, as well, all out at the park for evening activities.
She looked around with a gentle smile of realization on her face. She is home.
Home. Beatha and I must be channeling each other. Just wrote about the idea of home on my blog. Welcome home Beatha--welcome home indeed:)
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