Just lonely for home tonight.
For Mr. Gatti's samplers with creamy Italian dressing. For that oppressive heat and then the thunderstorm that cleans the air. For the sounds of the night and the stars in the never-ending sky. For going to HEB and seeing familiar strangers - faces from your childhood - and probably an aunt or an uncle, too, whose faces and bodies have grown older and more wrinkled but who still feel like home. When I was in Austin, or San Antonio, or Houston - I always needed - not wanted but really needed - to make the trek "home" every now and then - refill my cup. That's how I feel tonight. Need the cup refilled.
Lonely for Sandra's mom and dad. And those pork sandwiches that were always packed in her lunch in middle school. And her dad's cream corn. And his fajitas. And the never ending kindness that her parents always shared.
Lonely for the cemetery in Kingsbury - where each time I walk through I recognize more and more names and neighbors and where I end up at my own parents' graves - and it is as close as coming home as I can get.
Lonely for the long, dusty country roads and the old bridges over rivers that we used to swim in. For the fields that bake in the sun and the red-brown dirt that shows through each row.
Lonely for the sanctuary of my grandmother's house. For walking barefoot across the yard after dark back to my peach-colored room and the curtains that swayed in the breeze. For the whistle and the rhythm of the trains mysteriously filling the night air.
That is what I am lonely for tonight. What do you miss?