No secret

PDX The last time I came home it was a secret. A delicious secret. Only two other Portlanders knew and  only one of them knew the time and date.

I came in at the witching hour. The still minutes before midnight when anything can happen. The airport was calm and so was the night sky. My flight came in a few moments early so I stood outside and waited for my ride.

It was nice just to be. To soak up the vivid hues of green that my eyes had sorely missed. My ride pulled up in his car and was quite apologetic, for he thought that he was late. There was no need to be sorry. I could have sat and soaked up the joy of being back in my hometown for quite a bit longer without getting annoyed. Instead, I slid my bag into the back of the sportscar and then myself into the passengers seat. It’s always nice to ride in style.

I’m not getting picked up in the sportscar this time around. This time it will be a mad jumble of siblings. It isn’t a surprise that I’m going home.

One of the things that I’m looking forward to the most is worshipping with my family. Not passing notes with my older brother, even though we switched to text messaging during church a few years ago, but being there with the people I love worshipping the God that I love. There’s something so right about that.

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