A cattail trolled from the Arkansas River
A few days ago I met a longtime friend for coffee. In selecting a place to rendezvous, I asked her to meet me at the coffee shop “by the old Wal-Mart.”
We chuckled later at these quaint directions only an insider would understand. Indeed, one of the beautiful things about coming home is the effortless way I can relax back into the familiar. There’s no second-guessing how to function in society, no wondering how to get what I need, no stomach knots as I wonder how to navigate a conversation.
Walking Little Rock’s Millennium Trail
After 15 months, the details come back simultaneously familiar and fresh. I’d forgotten how strangers often strike up a conversation to fill the grocery store wait, the overwhelming options in the gum department, wisdom from church marquees, and living so close to nature that signs warn drivers of deer.
The wit I mentioned above (Get it?! I snuck in the word “above”!)
Even going through the desk in my old room brought back forgotten memories. Can you guess who coined this sarcastic beaut?
There are just not a lot of attractive women who eat roast beef on a regular basis…that’s why it’s hard to date women at Arby’s.
Yep, only those of you from home will be familiar with the restaurant my brother was referencing.
Plenty ‘o plastic options in Conway
When I come across these quotes, when a friend makes a pun, even when I turn on the radio, I’m privy to a million inside jokes. It feels familiar, comfortable. It feels like home.