I want a dirty car again

All I want, all I need right now is to be back where I came from. Like the Phoenix rising from the ashes, the Al that type these words was born from the dust that rose from Winegar road as a stray car barreled by, spitting clouds of dirt and pebbles in its wake. I belong on the dirt road. I need to be back there. The dirt road is where my dreams were born. My dreams today and my dreams then were anything but the same. I could be anything, anywhere. I wanted to sprout wings and fly away from the dirt road. Now, all I want is to go home.

I won't be moving back to Winegar Road. I don't know if I will be moving anywhere. My house has been on and off the market since I was pregnant with Tanis, who will be four at the end of this month (!!!). But, Eric and I are doing everything we can to sell this subdivision abode so we can leave the blacktop behind us. The last month, our house has been in a constant state of hellacious discord with remodeling efforts. Our kitchen has no floor. The computer room holds the belongings of nearly every room, leaving the narrowest of paths to navigate to reach our lifeline called the internet. Every night, we are working until we drop to prepare our house for strangers to scrutinize every aspect of our home with the hopes one of them should want to live here.

I want my children to have what I had. We have promised them goats. I had goats. We have promised them apple trees to pluck a sun ripened snack from in the new chill of September. I had apple trees. We have promised them land to run and play on. I had land. We have promised them the happiness that only the dirt road can give. I had that kind of happiness. Every child should know that kind of happiness.

All I want, all I need, is for my car to be dirty again from the dust the dirt road throws at it.