Not once… during twenty, life-enriching years in Texas…did I imagine a homecoming that would fulfill a schoolgirl dream of living in one of Oklahoma City’s oldest neighborhoods. So who could have guessed — until it happened five short years later — that I’d trade my 1928 Mesta Park beauty for a 1950’s rambling California Ranch, just twenty blocks up the street?
Life, as we live it, is a thicket of surprises. More so, I think, than we will ever know. Why, only as I take take time to reflect back on my day…. and even the weeks and months and years of my life… only then, am I able to catch a hint or glimpse of its rhymes. Sometimes, the rhythm of seemingly discrete events, separated by years and decades, comes together as answers to unasked questions, in the same powerful way a once indecipherable poem is suddenly understood. Dots connect. The line of a story forms. The past and present connect, pointing me toward an unformed future. Meaning and layers of meaning unfold… only to be reinterpreted, in light of new days.
In such thinking upon two dots of everyday life, I see how both Oklahoma places I have called home, upon my return from Texas, have served to bring me back full circle to my childhood… to the place where dreams are the stuff of everyday life and the line between the two grows faint. And though the vibe is different in my “new” neighborhood, home is still where an everyday life takes place; here I cook and keep house, I read and I write and I kneel on knees to pray and garden.
I’m grateful to share days with my husband who remains the love of my life and a large family stretched to embrace those who share the lives of four adult children — three great spouses and six growing-like-weeds grandchildren (the ‘grands’).
I fill my days with typical housewife pursuits though nothing about life is typical. Indeed, the best of life is what happens in between the exclamation points of birthdays, weddings and other memorable moments. It’s ironic we take photos of the moments we won’t forget and fail to preserve what is otherwise forgettable. My blog is an attempt at the latter.