Missing the smell of pines over a cup of coffee. I miss driving on tree lined roads and watching as the sun plays peek a boo through the branches. I miss town folk complaining about Skyway and the roads, traffic and slow drivers. I miss the school yard. I would sit waiting for our baby boy to be walked out to the car and seeing the leaves fall from limbs heavy with the colorful foliage. I miss the winding roads when wet with rain and the dotted porch lights glimmering on the black top. I miss the seclusion in the trees and the warmth they gave me. I miss the smell of wood burning in the fireplace and watching as the fire crackles in its safe space. There are so many things I miss about being home. These are just a few that have popped into my head this evening. I want to go home but it isn’t the same, nor will it be. We are miles away now, trying to build our lives in the same image of what we had. I hope and pray we can emotionally get back to where we were and the feeling of warmth and comfort when we walk into our new front door. They say grief is a process, I’m ready for it to be over.

~ Written by Bethann Jauron, and submitted with her approval.  Originally published at https://facebook.c0m/groups/CampFireSurvivors