There's just something about snow that makes us Arizona lizards go nuts. Suddenly the halls of school are more cheery (and muddy) and everyone's out and about. Yesterday I made a cowboy snowman, had a snowball fight with my baby brother, was pulled on a sled behind our quad, played an imaginitive game of wizards with my neighbor, and rode a horse! I hardly do half that much in a normal day.
The day before, simply entranced with this rare winter wonderland, I bundled up and went for a walk since I had PM Release and got out early from school. Except I forgot that all the elementry kids got out early too.
I saw some kids playing in their yard and casually waved as I passed, saying something along the lines of, "Looks fun!"
"Hi," they replied mischeviously. Then they brought their hands up, full of packed snowballs.
And that ladies and gents, began the most pathetic defense on my life that I have ever performed. Suddenly I was being pelted left and right. One sharp-aimer even managed to get some snow packed into my ear. I finally decided to fight back but if you knew my history of throwing abilities...well, let's just say that in dodgeball I only ever handed the balls to other people and in volleyball I couldn't serve to save my life.
In short, those rascals would be at point blank and my snowball would go flying two inches to the left of them. Not that it would've done any damage anyways.
And in the middle of this cold, wet warfare, two little girls kept begging me to 'spin them'. I had done it once for one of the girls and they weren't about to let the trend disapear.
So, three more spins, fifty-three more face shots, and a humiliating twenty misses later, I finally muttered something about having to go pick up my brother or something. Like a victim of the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club, I walked off, digging snow out of my ear and shaking it out of my shirt.
But with all the Christmas stuff, and with all my plans to leave to college this summer, I've been getting sentimental. Again. To the point its almost pathetic. I basically cried myself to sleep one night just thinking about how I wouldn't be able to drive my arguing brothers to school or cuddle up by the woodstove with my family on a saturday morning. There'd be no little neighbor girls banging on my door waking me up from my afternoon nap or evenings roaring with laughter with my baby brother while watching Phineas and Ferb. My two bestest bestest bestest friends who know everything about me wouldn't be there. Neither would my Buick, who's doors got frozen shut last night and I literally had to call my house phone from the parking lot for someone to help me get out.
It'd just be me and the Barbie in the Nutcracker movie I've sworn to myself that I'm bringing.
Fittingly enough, the lesson in Young Women's today was about accepting change. I listened, trying to hold back even more tears.
And then it dawned on me. As if someone had wrapped a warm arm of security around my shoulders, the spirit whispered that this wasn't the first time I'd done this.
About seventeen years ago, I'd left a different home. One that I imagined I loved dearly. One I had built memories and relationships in. But I knew that I needed to go where I was going and that I'd be happy I'd gone in the long run. I needed to go and experience things for myself. To learn things that I couldn't there. Just like how I felt about college.
So I left my Heavenly Father, probably in a similar fashion that I'll be leaving my parents, and set off. He'd given me all the knowledge he could, just as my parents have done, and it was time for me to go out and make use of it.
I'd done it before. And a soft whispering to the heart told me that I could most certainly do it again. And, like my mom told me today, home isn't neccesarily where your past crayon drawings have been painted over or where your worn-down swing set lies. It isn't really where your first prom dress hangs up or where your favorite meal was made. Home is something in your heart. It's a testimony. A love and a prayer. A sense of confidence. A familiar warmth. Something you can take with you no matter where you go so long as you hold to it.
And I think that, more than any financial aid or cafeteria pass, is what will hold me together when this sentimental lizard leaves her hole, no matter how thick the snowstorms. A little piece of the home before this one.
The day before, simply entranced with this rare winter wonderland, I bundled up and went for a walk since I had PM Release and got out early from school. Except I forgot that all the elementry kids got out early too.
I saw some kids playing in their yard and casually waved as I passed, saying something along the lines of, "Looks fun!"
"Hi," they replied mischeviously. Then they brought their hands up, full of packed snowballs.
And that ladies and gents, began the most pathetic defense on my life that I have ever performed. Suddenly I was being pelted left and right. One sharp-aimer even managed to get some snow packed into my ear. I finally decided to fight back but if you knew my history of throwing abilities...well, let's just say that in dodgeball I only ever handed the balls to other people and in volleyball I couldn't serve to save my life.
In short, those rascals would be at point blank and my snowball would go flying two inches to the left of them. Not that it would've done any damage anyways.
And in the middle of this cold, wet warfare, two little girls kept begging me to 'spin them'. I had done it once for one of the girls and they weren't about to let the trend disapear.
So, three more spins, fifty-three more face shots, and a humiliating twenty misses later, I finally muttered something about having to go pick up my brother or something. Like a victim of the He-Man-Woman-Haters-Club, I walked off, digging snow out of my ear and shaking it out of my shirt.
But with all the Christmas stuff, and with all my plans to leave to college this summer, I've been getting sentimental. Again. To the point its almost pathetic. I basically cried myself to sleep one night just thinking about how I wouldn't be able to drive my arguing brothers to school or cuddle up by the woodstove with my family on a saturday morning. There'd be no little neighbor girls banging on my door waking me up from my afternoon nap or evenings roaring with laughter with my baby brother while watching Phineas and Ferb. My two bestest bestest bestest friends who know everything about me wouldn't be there. Neither would my Buick, who's doors got frozen shut last night and I literally had to call my house phone from the parking lot for someone to help me get out.
It'd just be me and the Barbie in the Nutcracker movie I've sworn to myself that I'm bringing.
Fittingly enough, the lesson in Young Women's today was about accepting change. I listened, trying to hold back even more tears.
And then it dawned on me. As if someone had wrapped a warm arm of security around my shoulders, the spirit whispered that this wasn't the first time I'd done this.
About seventeen years ago, I'd left a different home. One that I imagined I loved dearly. One I had built memories and relationships in. But I knew that I needed to go where I was going and that I'd be happy I'd gone in the long run. I needed to go and experience things for myself. To learn things that I couldn't there. Just like how I felt about college.
So I left my Heavenly Father, probably in a similar fashion that I'll be leaving my parents, and set off. He'd given me all the knowledge he could, just as my parents have done, and it was time for me to go out and make use of it.
I'd done it before. And a soft whispering to the heart told me that I could most certainly do it again. And, like my mom told me today, home isn't neccesarily where your past crayon drawings have been painted over or where your worn-down swing set lies. It isn't really where your first prom dress hangs up or where your favorite meal was made. Home is something in your heart. It's a testimony. A love and a prayer. A sense of confidence. A familiar warmth. Something you can take with you no matter where you go so long as you hold to it.
And I think that, more than any financial aid or cafeteria pass, is what will hold me together when this sentimental lizard leaves her hole, no matter how thick the snowstorms. A little piece of the home before this one.
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