Friday with Freda ~ Missing Home

She misses West Virginia.

I sense it. I know it. I catch her trying looking at old photos, gazing out the window, wondering if she will ever see the likes of her home there ever again.

She will never again step foot in the house she lived in for almost forty years. That is for sure. That house is long gone and will never come back her way. The home I grew up in with her is scheduled to be sold on the court house steps this fall. This comes as a result of the years of financial instability my parents wrestled through their whole lives.

It wasn’t her fault, but she is the one who was left to suffer the loss after they have passed.

Another death. More grief.

She asks me questions about the house all the time. I know she must miss her own bed, and her own room and her own space. But she rarely complains.

I also know she is having adventures now that she never would have if she hadn’t come to live with us over a year and a half ago.

But still, with fall around the corner, and the finality that will happen with the sale of the family house, I know she is missing home more than ever. I know cause I am right there with her.


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