I decided to take a drive tonight to attempt to capture a picture. I've always wanted to catch that moment. That moment of recognition. Of coming home.
So I drove out... and away... just far enough.
I turned around and headed towards home.
I crested the hill, and the lights of the town started to sparkle in the dusk. Home.
I found a safe spot and pulled off the highway. My truck was humming of warmth, and the smell of coffee mixed with autumn air when I opened my door. The soft lull of music whispered from the windows.
As I stood and took this picture, memories flooded me. I remember when I moved away for a time to learn some lessons about being on my own. I remember being crazy lonely for home, and my mom coaxing me back to town. When I would drive into town at night, cresting this hill always brought tears to my eyes. It was the coming home. Oh, I was grateful for the return.
Even as a child, late night trips home from a visit, the lights across the highway would dance a welcome, promising home was just over the next hill.
And even now, with people rushing away, or trudging up a hill. the lights promise home is just around a bend.
With gratitude and night lights.
