Home is where you're equated to skies filled with blue boxes...or something like that.
[Lucy In The Sky of Diamonds]
Even before the plane touches down, she thinks she can smell BBQ, humidity and sweet tea; all things integral to Alabama. Once she steps out into the airport, it all wraps around her like her favorite stadium blanket. Lucy always forgets how much a part of her this place is. She carries it with her in LA but somehow it’s buried deeper there. When she comes home, it all surfaces.
The taxi drops her off because Lucy’s favorite part of coming home is opening the door and being swept up in everything that makes this place home. She can smell the Sweet Potato Pie before she ever gets to the door and the soft twang of country music comes from the kitchen where she can see Christine working. All the windows are flung wide open and she knows without asking that Momma is out in the garden because she can hear her singing to the roses.
Lucy doesn’t say anything when she opens the door and steps inside because it’s almost like she never left. She sets her bag down and tiptoes across the foyer, reminiscent of all the times she’d snuck in after curfew. Instead of going directly to her room, she sneaks into the kitchen and nabs a piece of pie, right out of the tin.
“Miss Lucy that’s for dessert,” Christine shames, laughing and snapping a dish towel at her as she does.
“I’ll eat some for dessert too,” Lucy promises as she skips off, pie in hand-no plates needed-toward the veranda. As expected, Momma is out there singing to her roses. She waves with a pair of hedge shears and Lucy waves back with her pie filled hand. The other hand is reaching across her father for a drink of his sweet tea.
“Princess Lucy, wondered when you were gonna get ‘round to comin’ back to see us,” he says as he reaches up to embrace her in a tight hug.
“I’ll come back sooner if it means you’ll stop squishing me,” Lucy jokes but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She pops the last of her pie in her mouth, brushes a hand over her dad’s shoulder and beams up at him.
“Good trip, Lucy in the sky with diamonds?”
Because he never calls her just Lucy.
“The best,” she responds.
And it always is. She loves coming home to the only place on earth where she is always Lucy in the sky with diamonds.
Even before the plane touches down, she thinks she can smell BBQ, humidity and sweet tea; all things integral to Alabama. Once she steps out into the airport, it all wraps around her like her favorite stadium blanket. Lucy always forgets how much a part of her this place is. She carries it with her in LA but somehow it’s buried deeper there. When she comes home, it all surfaces.
The taxi drops her off because Lucy’s favorite part of coming home is opening the door and being swept up in everything that makes this place home. She can smell the Sweet Potato Pie before she ever gets to the door and the soft twang of country music comes from the kitchen where she can see Christine working. All the windows are flung wide open and she knows without asking that Momma is out in the garden because she can hear her singing to the roses.
Lucy doesn’t say anything when she opens the door and steps inside because it’s almost like she never left. She sets her bag down and tiptoes across the foyer, reminiscent of all the times she’d snuck in after curfew. Instead of going directly to her room, she sneaks into the kitchen and nabs a piece of pie, right out of the tin.
“Miss Lucy that’s for dessert,” Christine shames, laughing and snapping a dish towel at her as she does.
“I’ll eat some for dessert too,” Lucy promises as she skips off, pie in hand-no plates needed-toward the veranda. As expected, Momma is out there singing to her roses. She waves with a pair of hedge shears and Lucy waves back with her pie filled hand. The other hand is reaching across her father for a drink of his sweet tea.
“Princess Lucy, wondered when you were gonna get ‘round to comin’ back to see us,” he says as he reaches up to embrace her in a tight hug.
“I’ll come back sooner if it means you’ll stop squishing me,” Lucy jokes but she wouldn’t have it any other way. She pops the last of her pie in her mouth, brushes a hand over her dad’s shoulder and beams up at him.
“Good trip, Lucy in the sky with diamonds?”
Because he never calls her just Lucy.
“The best,” she responds.
And it always is. She loves coming home to the only place on earth where she is always Lucy in the sky with diamonds.