Missing So Much About Home

I’ve been in my hometown for a month now. It’s a nice time to be here, as the hills around the town turn emerald green before finally fading to brown in the semi-arid summertime. The trees and bushes are still bare, but the buds are popping out as quickly as the crocuses, violets and daffodils while the weather slowly and stubbornly becomes warmer. Spring is definitely here.

I’m not still here with some weird project of observing the weather and landscape changes, though. I just can’t get home yet. I travelled here on a military “Space Available” flight, and plan to get home the same way. Traveling without my military sponsor (AKA: Tim) means limited travel opportunities for me. I’m only allowed to travel from an in-States location to an overseas one, which means I have to wait around for a flight from the West Coast to Germany or the UK. Those don’t show up very often.

So I’m here looking at trees and hills. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t getting a tad-bit bored and much more homesick. I wake up every day with thoughts of what I’d bake if I was home. That’s the thing bugging me most: not being able to bake. Heather doesn’t bake so she doesn’t have many of the necessary supplies, and even if she did bake, she and her family are still recovering from losing most of their processions in the fire.

Oddly enough, I actually miss my apron. How strange is that? My apron, my bowl scraper, my silicone baking mats… Heaven for me might just be a bakery.

It turns out that baking has become a ritual much like drinking tea: the process is as important as the end result. I love waking with an urge to make something specific, the smells and the dusty flour, burying my hands in the dough… everything. Microwaving water for tea is missing as much meaning as buying a pack of scones/cookies/bread at the store.

So, please pray that my baking supplies and I are united again soon. If Heaven is a bakery, then hell might be anywhere that I can’t bake! LOL!