Kim's Blogs

In July



In July, I’m reflective and mindful. Philosophical. A little Zen-ish.


I’m homesick even when I’m sitting on my own couch, lounging in my own house.


I want to run through the sprinkler at Aunt Carol’s house on 40th Avenue West with my sister, Kay, and cousins, Debbie and Mary. I want to eat bologna sandwiches slathered in Miracle Whip, drink sugary orange Kool-Aid, and giggle about what it might feel like to kiss a boy with my eyes closed and my tongue out.


I want to count backwards from 100, find the people I love hiding in all the familiar places.


The mere scent of peonies’ causes my body to react in ways I can’t fully describe. Sort of like standing next to your Nana inhaling an entire history of stories, or awaking with the sun directly upon your skin.


Even black ants living inside pink petals is a reminder that life is exuberant, breathing, and swallowing up every infuriating, ticking clock.


In July, I get a little nostalgic, wistful.


I remember walking to Bridgman’s to buy chocolate revel ice-cream cones with my sister, holding onto her chubby hand with all my might. The heat slamming against our faces never bothered us then, never concerned us then. Skin cancer was not our reality. We lived in moments like the spaces between words, like the pauses between rhyme.


Those are the moments I hear God’s heartbeat within my core.


ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum-tssssssssh.


The aroma of tomatoes simmering, gnocchi boiling, peppers frying, and garlic bread rising in the oven is my home. Surly, this is the reason we hold memories. To take out later when we need them to survive, to unearth afterwards when we desire to go back where we were once carefree and sprinting through cool sprinklers.


I’ve come to the conclusion that home is not a place at all, but a sensation, an experience, the perfume of summers’ past, Sunday dinners with my big fat Italian family, and the stain of orange Kool-Aid smeared on our lips like a Mary Oliver poem.


Today–my home is here. Now. Where I am.


When my boys walk into the kitchen with smiles on their faces, hugging me closely.


And I serve them my daddy’s homemade spaghetti sauce and warm bread with so much love that my insides hurt.


——-Dear, Reader, what is your HOME like? xx

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  • Reply
    Balroop Singh
    July 5, 2016 at 8:40 am

    Home is the best place on this earth…all those aromas you have mentioned could reach me Kim. Some memories are more precious than life and home is the place where they are made! Thanks for the reminder. 🙂 Stay blessed!

  • Reply
    Bren Pace
    July 5, 2016 at 9:36 am

    Glad to see you got your site back up, Kim. Such a deep, heartfelt post. Home to me, is where my furkids and hubs are. Home is where we make it and feel at ease and loved.

    I hope you have a great week ahead.


  • Reply
    Minnesota Prairie Roots
    July 5, 2016 at 10:20 am

    Girl you can write. This piece is so poignantly beautiful that my heart hurts reading it. In a good way. A really good way.

    Home is being with the people I love most in this world: my husband, my daughters, my son, my son-in-law and my sweet granddaughter.

  • Reply
    Lisa Gordon
    July 5, 2016 at 10:38 am

    Oh what a wonderful post this is, Kim, and I can identify with every last bit of it.

    I come from a very old-fashioned Italian family, and your quote, “I’ve come to the conclusion that home is not a place at all, but a sensation, an experience, the perfume of summers’ past, Sunday dinners with my big fat Italian family, and the stain of orange Kool-Aid smeared on our lips like a Mary Oliver poem.” hits home like you cannot even begin to imagine.

    Those days are gone now, but the memories are one of my most precious gifts.

    Thank you for such a wonderful post. xo.

  • Reply
    July 5, 2016 at 12:15 pm

    your sense of home sounds like soaking in a bath of love and joy. I feel that way when I am sitting on the floor with Tucker’s head melted into my lap and him looking up at me- it gives me butterflies in my belly that rise up and make me smile 🙂 I fee the same way with one of my sleepy kitties sitting in my lap, purring and looking up at me through heavy-lidded eyes. ❤️🐾❤️

    • Reply
      My Inner Chick
      July 8, 2016 at 7:32 am

      Yes!!! That sounds beautiful, Trish. Purring, Fur, Pet love! xxx

  • Reply
    July 5, 2016 at 1:07 pm

    I agree with MN Prairie Roots – Wow you can write! This conjured up a lot of summer sensations for me. So beautifully expressed, Kim . It was a real pleasure to read.

  • Reply
    Jodi Aman
    July 5, 2016 at 1:15 pm

    I felt this post down to my TOES! xoxo

  • Reply
    Elephant's Child
    July 5, 2016 at 2:27 pm

    Hugs. And aren’t remembered scents POWERFUL.

  • Reply
    nan @ lbddiaries
    July 5, 2016 at 2:37 pm

    Home – home is wherever Alpha Hubby is.

  • Reply
    July 5, 2016 at 4:38 pm

    Beautiful memories 💋

  • Reply
    Julie Gardner
    July 5, 2016 at 5:35 pm

    This is breathtakingly beautiful.

    Makes me think of my own childhood Julys with Farmer John hot dogs on the grill and Vin Scully’s voice crackling from the radio. My sister and I danced around the yard with squirt bottles to aim at the bbq flames (cheap and easy fun was always my mother’s goal). Sometimes we’d paint the fence with water from a bowl using old brushes. Or collect roly poly bugs in a bucket of dirt then release them to return to their families. Dodger games. Red light Green Light. Watermelon seed spitting contests. Reading a favorite book again in the shade of a tree. Lying on my back staring at clouds wondering about heaven.

    And love.

  • Reply
    lisa thomson-The Great Escape...
    July 5, 2016 at 5:53 pm

    This brought tears to my eyes, Kim. Your words are so remarkable—so real—so true. Memories are surely our home. My favorite line out of so many I love in this poem: “We lived in moments like the spaces between words, like the pauses between rhyme.”

    Thank you for this lovely poem, Kim.

  • Reply
    July 5, 2016 at 9:39 pm

    How beautifully written!

    Home is with my kids too.

  • Reply
    Chris Carter
    July 5, 2016 at 9:47 pm

    Ah… your words are still lingering in my mind, as the emotions are still churning from them. I can picture your memories with such clarity, they trigger tears- both of sadness and of joy. What beautiful and aching visions you hold in that huge heart of yours. I love that you let us into your home. It’s breathtaking.

    My home is both this physical place and my husband and kids IN IT. When I walk through the door, I feel safe always. I think that’s the most important feeling there is, in it’s truest and purest form. <3

  • Reply
    Vidya Sury
    July 5, 2016 at 9:57 pm

    What a beautiful lyrical treat to read, Kim. I carry my home in my heart. In my memories, my feelings, my family, my friends, all bound together irrevocably by love.

  • Reply
    Angie@Angie's Recipes
    July 6, 2016 at 12:28 am

    So beautifully written, Kim.

    The aroma of tomatoes simmering, gnocchi boiling, peppers frying, and garlic bread rising in the oven is my home…you’ve described home perfectly..

  • Reply
    Anna @ shenANNAgans
    July 6, 2016 at 3:09 am

    Home is with my beautiful fur baby and Momma bear. Home is the smell of lavender, the smell of food cooking or bread baking. Home is described much as you have. Hope you are well my beautiful friend. Hugs across the pond. xox

  • Reply
    July 6, 2016 at 3:59 am

    My home is family, start to finish even when we are spread across a big African continent – like my Pete in Kenya and me at home. We are never separated!
    Love, love, love darling Kim.
    🙂 Mandy xoxoxo
    PS. Did my letter arrive from Kenya? xo

    • Reply
      My Inner Chick
      July 6, 2016 at 6:57 am

      I never received a letter, but I shall be waiting near my mailbox! xxxx

  • Reply
    Totally Caroline
    July 6, 2016 at 4:10 am

    You create the most beautiful imagery with your words. I can clearly see it in my mind’s eye. This is beautiful.
    I always thought of home as being in that space of a hug. The arms of someone I love. I can almost barely remember what it feels like… But I stay hopeful.

  • Reply
    Susan Boswell
    July 6, 2016 at 10:15 am

    Like like like
    I have been thinking a lot about home lately Working on drafts for “The Long Way Home”
    I loved your memories Kim and how you embrace the present
    Happy summer my friend

  • Reply
    July 6, 2016 at 11:53 am

    Your writing is like a painting, Kim. So visual! I love it! I’ve moved so many times in my life I don’t have any true ‘home’ memories except my grandmother’s house. Always big hugs, aromas of southern cooking filling the air and LOVE.

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 5:08 am

    “Sort of like standing next to your Nana inhaling an entire history of stories, or awaking with the sun directly upon your skin.” Wow! I want that! xx

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 11:12 am

    Such a beautiful post Kim.. peonies.. oh how I love them. I could have them in a vase, in my garden or I could stare at them everyday. My home is filled with fragrances from my childhood this Summer. My mum is visiting; every morsel of food is a reminder of my happy childhood and all the clean eating I did. Warmth and hugs, lots of hand holding; my girls, my mum and I. Her cooking wafts through my home like it is the most normal thing in the world – I wish she didn’t have to go back.

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 11:55 am

    I grew up in a big fat Italian family too! Sundays were macaroni and meatballs…..always…no exceptions! Thanksgiving was turkey but with manicotti on the side. Those days were so carefree and I think that’s why we miss them so much along with the people in them. But how blessed we are to have had those times with our deceased relatives. Now my home is my husband, youngest son who is 17 and my dog……I wouldn’t trade that for anything!

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 12:38 pm

    Love Love Love your home, Kim! Isn’t it interesting that, for most of us, “Home” is brought most vividly to mind by familiar sights, smells, and touches? And we desperately NEED the feeling of safety and security that “Home” evokes…maybe now more than ever in our crazy world!

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 4:36 pm

    Yay for gardening! I put in two more raised garden beds this year, but won’t start growing stuff in them until next year. I love poking about in my backyard. I can’t imagine having a house without a decent house and garden. That has always been what makes a home special for me. I like knowing I planted every single shrub and planted every flowers. It’s comforting to see the fruits of my labor year after year. I love my little yellow house.

  • Reply
    July 7, 2016 at 9:26 pm

    So well written. I could smell the tomatoes and the gnocchi cooking and it was so flavorful!

  • Reply
    July 8, 2016 at 5:54 am

    Oh Kim, your words are a poem. Of old memories rushing back and images printed in my mind.
    Home is where I feel loved, where I share love. Love is about being me, without trying to be somebody else. Home is about good food, family, friends, smiles and kisses. And knowing there’s no better place on earth like this one.
    Sending you Love, Light & Peace.

  • Reply
    July 8, 2016 at 11:53 am

    Dear Kim, I am so glad that your site is up and running again – I could not post comments for the longest time…and, yes, you certainly write beautifully, I love, love this post of yours and I believe I can echo some of your feelings. To me home is where my hearts is, where it smells like my favorite smells, where it feels safe and comfortable and full of love!
    Sending you a ton of hugs and much love, dear friend!
    Andrea – I sooo enjoyed this post and will carry it with me like a always carry your posts in my heart…

    • Reply
      My Inner Chick
      July 9, 2016 at 5:16 am

      Sweet. Thank you for spurring me forward, dear Andrea. xxxxx

  • Reply
    Sandra Garth
    July 9, 2016 at 12:34 pm

    “Home is a sensation”, oh how I love that!

  • Reply
    Hotly Spiced
    July 9, 2016 at 2:06 pm

    Home is definitely when all the family is gathered around the table. I do love your trip down memory lane. I also had simple summers dancing under a sprinkler xx

  • Reply
    Ranthambore Tour Packages
    July 13, 2016 at 2:42 am

    You make the most delightful symbolism with your words. I can plainly see it in my inner being’s. This is wonderful.

  • Reply
    Julia Whitmore
    July 13, 2016 at 9:12 am

    Nostalgia hits me hard in July, too. What is it about July? Love your images, especially the ant in the peony.

  • Reply
    July 19, 2016 at 10:25 am

    Summer makes me nostalgic, thinking of home when I was a kid. I suppose I will forever associate summer with childhood, since it is so magical then. My home is where I am now, and that makes me happy. I hope it always does.

  • Reply
    Peta Kaplan
    July 25, 2016 at 7:41 am

    What a beautifully written and poignant post. I am often grappling with issues such as where and what home are and I love how you write and describe this … About home not being a place, but being a feeling. As I am currently in a mostly nomadic mode, I could not agree more. And yes, one can feel “homesick” when one is at “home.”

    For me I get nostalgic at the end of summer when Autumn comes around… Even though as a child, growing up in South Africa, we never really experienced anything with changing of the leaves or a “real” Autumn, but something about the feeling of the end of summer and the start of winter is what gets me nostalgic. Endings and new beginnings. Transitions


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