we passed a church where one of my best friends from school would get married. where the memorial services of some amazing figures in my world were held. in those walls life is celebrated. spiritual life, new life... worlds being welded together... and the mourning of life passing... the reveling in the good times. and so on. buildings that used to be something else. the old dollar theatre where i first saw snow white and the seven dwarves. the bakery where everyone seemed to love getting cakes and cupcakes for their birthdays. it was the town favourite. still is, apparently. my family always preferred dairy queen ice-cream cakes. my childhood best friend's house... and the time we tasted our first bit of freedom and road bikes around her neighborhood.
the straight stretch of highway... the memories of the drives when i was in high school and smitten by these boys turning men in the navy. i can feel the butterflies in my stomach, still. and then a quick turning at my naivety. the first time i'd raced anyone in a sports truck with a manual transmission... and the limiter kicked in.
and the strange wave of sadness when approaching the road where my father used to live... where some of my family are still.
and then, we headed back.
the week was full of tears. full of family. full of food. and a little wine.
and i realised, that a broken heart won't very likely heal overnight, or even within a few days or weeks. and there are places where the scars show always. but sometimes what you need is home, prayer, family (including pets) & best friends, good food, wine, music and some speed.
things don't feel so hopeless then.
it's getting better... a little better all the time.