Places, People

Dear boys,

I've been heart-sick the last month or so. I've been aching for the past. When I live somewhere, I give my whole heart to that locale and its people. Sometimes I ache for Kirtland. The lump in my throat gets matzo-ball sized when I think of my loves in Ohio. I long to be there, walking along Lake Erie, eating hot Italian sausage and baba ganooj (not together), and marinating in the friendships I made there.

Sometimes I long for Mexico. I dream about riding the bus to el centro, engorging myself on tacos al pastor, and coming home to do laundry with my little familia on the roof of our casita.

But lately it's been worse than ever. I have been aching for Utah. I dream about living on Elm Avenue again and sitting on the front steps with you two, watching the kids march up from school at 3:00. My heart hurts when I remember bringing you babes home from the hospital to that house, and nursing you day and night on the pinkish recliner in Grandma's TV room. I want to take you on walks past the Provo temple and down by the stadium again. I want to go for an evening stroll in the tree streets and lovingly greet literally everyone we see, because they are all dear friends. A couple of weeks ago I was on my knees telling Heavenly Father how much I was longing, and I cried and cried for Utah.

A few days later I drove south with Dad. We left you with Grammy and Grampy and Aunt Joan and knew you would be happy and in good care. We drove down through the great expanse that is California and wondered, "Who eats all those almonds?!" We galavanted in Marina del Rey, playing at the beach and eating at Pinkberry twice a day. We went for a morning jog past the beach houses is Encinitas. We kicked back at an oceanside restaurant and ate eggs benny with avocado and oh glahry was I loving vacation! One night we drove up to an adobe ranch house in the hills of San Diego for a wedding rehearsal dinner. After passing on the tequila, examining the gorgeous home and breathtaking view, and filling up on unbelievable tacos, your dad and I chatted with our friends and got ready for the speeches and entertainment. It was just getting dark as as the live music started. I looked around me and took it all in. The lanterns, the pool, the music, the landscape. Then my eyes went again to the little ringbearer. I couldn't keep my eyes off him during the rehearsal and I'd watched him run all around that ranch house that evening. He was just about your age, Blaine. And like you, he was cheerful and bouyant and silly and full of life.

And my heart started aching again. I didn't care how beautiful this place was or how fun this vacation was. I wanted to be with my boys. I started to feel anxious. How could I leave my babies for so long? How could I be out galavanting in another state instead of taking care of them? As I sat there I realized that I would survive if I couldn't go back to Guadalajara or Cleveland, or even Provo. But I couldn't survive if I couldn't be with you again. I could be happy living in a garbage can as long as I could be with my little family.

I leaned my head back on your dad's chest and felt him love me. I let my anxiety cease. I knew it was time to stop longing for other places, other times. I just need him. And you.

XOXO
Mom