Lost and Found

Have you ever started doing something with one point in mind only to see something else play out instead?  That's this blog post.  I have this long rambley message posted below this going on about my lost blog. (Perhaps you've noticed the missing pictures, posts and other goodies?)  In between my dramatic streak and my wit I started to insert random pictures for the heck of it.  The funny thing is each picture actually fit into my whole lost and found title more than I realized.

So instead of stating the obvious about the blog, and instead of playing lead drama queen in my own life, I will instead share some old pictures that in some very tangible ways (and some not so) represent a little bit of lost and found.

(This one is my last babe.  Her toddler years are very nearly in the past.  At nearly 4 she wants to read, climb trees, chase chickens, and sing at the top of her lungs.  While she still cuddles (thanks goodness!) and needs me to kiss a hurt, most of the time this little bundle of energy explores and lives like with such abandon it leaves me speechless.)

 

(a fabulous fall view on top of a mountain in Idaho.  A plane went down here years ago.  The air at this point is so crisp and cool that you start doing that involuntary shiver/flinch combo that makes you wonder if you're having a seizure.  The loneliness of this post is something else.)

 

(My high school girlfriends and I would ditch PE to come hang out in this old school house.  Hang out naturally means freak ourselves out till we ran screaming like little girls from the building.  All in good fun right? As a teen there were only a couple of desks left in the large one room, coat hangers still hung on the wall and there were few missing pieces of glass.  I peaked in the windows to see a very different site last fall.)

 

(same day as the above picture and nothing has been Photoshopped. Breathtaking isn't it?  I used to drive by these fields as a teen.  I got my first speeding ticket not 5 miles from this exact spot.  After late nights at a fast food joint, I would bundle myself up, turn on a little Delilah, roll down the window and cruise this highway at 1 am every weekend.  Some nights I don't know how I  made it home alive as I never remembered driving it.  Other nights I would feel such a deep sense of peace fill my soul as I drove this desolate road that I would slow down and just feel the cold air hit my face.  Today I still speed on this road, I still roll the windows down, and I still notice the air as it hits my face.  Unfortunately Delilah no longer provides the soundtrack. Such a shame.)

 

(A stack of wood can be a funny thing.  Each time I see one I seem to have a memory that goes with it.  Making out with my best friend/boyfriend on a stack of wood in 11th grade, chopping a stack with my little one who swore he was big enough to hold the axe that out weighed him, sitting next to my guy on Christmas eve night with nothing but the glow of hot fire and twinkle lights on a tree.  A stack of wood always reminds me of something warm and happy and it always reminds me of home.  I miss our home and all the warmth it had.)