I had the best dream.
In it, my sister Angie came to see my for my birthday. Her husband decided to fly out too to go on a job interview here in town. He was trying to find a way to somehow move their family back to the Pacific Northwest. It would involve much sacrifice, but it would all be worth it in the end to have us all back together, where we belong, with each other. So important, now that we have painfully learned how quickly our lives can turn on a dime.
In the dream, it happened so fast. They flew back to Chicago. Then there was a teary phone call saying that there was a job offer, and it had been accepted. Like magic, their house in Chicago was sold and the perfect little house was found and purchased here in Portland.
I have dreamed some form of this dream many times in the five years since they moved away. It never failed to bring tears to my eyes and a long sigh over what could have been...my children growing up surrounded by the love of their Auntie and Uncle and cousins; unhurried time that a rushed week once a year of trying to fit everything in before you go can never, ever begin to cover.
Except this time I didn't wake up.
It really did happen.
Welcome home, Angie. You are right where you belong.
Now, what are we going to do today?