Welcome Home

It is a strange thing to return to a place that you lived once long ago. I was familiar with the town and the people and the landscape. I showed up at our host's home in cowgirl boots and he was delighted. "I thought there would be sandburs," I explained.

We ate fantastic steak and our hosts shared food and drink and stories in a way that made me feel entirely welcome. Rob, the attorney who invited my Legal Aid program for the weekend, does work for us and he wanted to introduce us to the Sandhills. He arranged for those of us who camp to have a primo campsite on the river. It was across the road from the hills that we got our Chirstmas tree at when we lived in Brownlee. I lay on my air mattress in the morning and watched the river go by. I walked down the path and just sat on the bank listening to the cows and felt the tears well up as the cows and the sound of the grass and the feel of the sky moved memories deep within me. When we went into town I knew the grocery store and the Main street and remembered my library. We canoed down the river and the differences are huge, but the similarities are also huge. "I know the school turn and the Berry Bridge," I said in surprise as we got directions for our canoe trip. I sat by the campfire that night eating too many marshmallows and I felt content and at home. Rob and his wife came by in the morning to have coffee at the campfire with us and Rob and I shared stories of the people "from the South" (meaning South of Valentine) as he called it, that we both knew.

I wrote a thank you note to my hosts and thanked them for reminding me of all the things I love about the Sandhills - the sky, the river, the beef, and most of all, the people of the Sandhills who are the most amazing hosts that I have experienced. I felt as if I had gone home - though I haven't lived there for 25 years.