One Final Sunrise on the Eastern Plains

This is not a fictional short story, although the story was short. No, this morning I am indulging one last sunrise on the Eastern Plains of Colorado that I have called home for the past 11 months. I can see stars and a full moon, awaiting the awakening of the sun. There is the hum of an oil rig one block away and a distant train moving through town. Crickets and birds are awake while the neighbors are still sleeping. I've loved early mornings on this porch.


There is an element of grief. I have loved this little house. This little house that has been more than enough. Perhaps I have not expressed enough gratitude for it. I've said it over and over. Love lived in every room here. I hope that I will leave some of it behind for the residents who are coming home to it. God, thank you. The words are so simple, and not said enough.

There are a million little things I need to do before friends and family arrive to help me make a temporary home of a storage unit and a beautiful bedroom. These will be places of rest and respite and starting over. Here I am seven minutes from two of four beautiful grandchildren that have filled this house with laughter and noise and snuggles and sleepovers. This is Grohm's house. These memories will take on a sabbatical of life's making, not one of my own. Two other grandchildren 1,104 miles away will never have the experience in this home that their cousins did, but they were here in short bursts to serve to fill it will love that only comes through distance. There will be a new place to call Gramma's house by the time they move back.

Holidays. A large Christmas tree with enough lights on it to fill a darkened room with celebration. Thanksgiving. Food and games and fun, fun, fun. Easter, which was almost missed this year that turned into an impromptu feast. Hours poured over a desk doing homework and photo edits. A bedroom so peaceful that one could write sleep above the doorway and it would come quickly upon lying down my head. Joy, not just love, but joy lived here.

I've gotten to know myself living here. I didn't even know I didn't know me. I found her here. I worked hard. Some might say too hard. But it was worthy of my life over the past 11 months. As I move onto the next adventure, I am filled with sorrow. I will miss the first place I ever really felt like was "my home." And now? I know I will want it again. Here I learned it is a very good thing to have a place to settle into.

Farewell, my little home in the country. You have served me well. May Love and Joy and Peace remain within your walls, with enough left over to pour out on every person who passes through your doors. And here comes the sun.....