I am sitting in a borrowed kitchen writing this blog once again from Fayetteville, Arkansas. This time I am not jet lagged. It is 1:30 in the afternoon on a glorious fall day. Chet Baker plays from my computer as I sit next to an open window and the sun casts shadows across the table. I can hear the wind in the tops of the trees. This is paradise. The temperature has dropped and more leaves have fallen, brisk, earthy, fresh and clean.
This is my hometown. I breathe it all in.
There is so much wrong with America but within my friends, family and community here, there is the best of America. There is culture, innovation, humor, intellect, creativity, empathy and sharing. The hospitality shown to us on this holiday has been nothing short of extraordinary.
The light dances across walls, the wooden floor creaks under foot and the stars shine bright in the country sky. The laughter is easy and the hushed whisper stories are contagious. The beans and cornbread my mom makes are still the best.
The birds are singing sweetly outside and I recognize their calls. They ground me here and now. In someone else's house, I am home.