The Moment

It's hard to pinpoint the moment you fall in love , but I remember when I began to love the Sierra. At the edge of Grass Valley, just off of Highway 49, I strolled with my grandmother across our family property to a tiny pine tree with a spot of bare dirt beside it. This was where Grandma had buried Frannie, a skinny black kitty who came to live with us when I was a child. "I cried," said Grandma. I snapped a photo of the spot of ground with the little tree. Frannie was family; this was where family came to rest. This was the place I could come to be close to the soul of a scrawny, mewly cat who was a child along with me. And I realized: I was home.

Memories

Public comment on Sun, 2006-12-10 07:25
Your post reminds me of being back East where I grew up. Not like the city I live in today.I moved to California, going on 9 years ago, and have been in the city the entire time. It's so nice to hear stories from people from areas that are out in the country where the land is open and free and the trees stand tall and the animals are free to roam. I know some people have never lived in the country and see many aspects of it as inconvenient, but I will always call it home. A goal for my husband and I one day, is to move away from the city and out where the land is and to be able to appreciate nature and it's beauty.
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