They're Scaring My Babies

We arrived in town about two in the afternoon. It was a pleasant day, almost summer-like, and the boys were ready to get out of the car. We had travelled for three days, and "We're here!" was music to their ears. We had dinner with new friends, and then headed out to the haunted corn maze to meet others. The corn maze cashier assured me that the scary factor was well within my children's age limits. She was wrong. We rode out to the corn maze entrance on a hayride that had the boys giddy with excitement. Then we started walking in, and all of the giddiness was wiped away and covered over with fear and trembling. We had to start yelling out, "Little kid coming through! Stay where you are!" That was the first day in our new home, five years ago. This is the longest I have lived anywhere as a married woman. A new record that I am very happy to have accomplished. I told one man when we moved here that I would give them two years to let the shoe drop. Our experiences had always included dropping shoes. I had friends; we attended church; the kids had programs and activities, but there was always something missing. My husband assures me we are here to stay, because I am happy here. I told him I have been happy everywhere we lived, but he says this is different. He's right. Our other homes have been full of love and laughter, but not truly home. I couldn't see myself staying put where we were. Now I can. Here we have friends that are like family, and family makes a city a hometown. No shoes have dropped. My babies aren't scared. And I have found what was missing. It's good to be home.