I wish we lived closer

My uncle showed up at my house late yesterday afternoon. He drove a pickup truck full of Grandma's old furniture across two states to deliver it to my empty oversized house. Oh...and he brought guns...quite a few guns. Grandpa (and Grandma) doesn't need them anymore, so they're going to my brother, as well as the old gun cabinet. He brought me a corner cabinet with glass door, an extendable buffet table that will be used as a sewing table, and a concrete statue of a young woman on a concrete pedestal (painted gold, of course). It was a strange strange delivery.

But what is stranger is the sad feeling I had when my uncle drove away (He dropped off the furniture and then drove back home across two states in order to beat some bad weather that is headed our direction).

I have always felt something was missing from my life because we didn't live close to our family. We had holidays and a couple visits here and there during the summer months...but that was about it. I remember always holding back the tears as we drove away from our Christmas visits. I remember wishing for so much more. And I apparently still wish.

Sam is NEVER leaving home. That's all there is to it.