I’m visiting my parents in South Carolina this week. It’s been four years since I’ve seen Mom and Dad. They look remarkably the same as they did the last time I was here, except happier. Which makes sense, because the last time I was here we were having my brother’s memorial service and our hearts were broken.

It’s hot outside, but not too hot. Inside, Mom has the air conditioning set to freezing, and I’m eating potato salad and drinking sweet tea. Mom just called me by my sister’s name. Now it really feels like home.

I’ve been scanning our old family photos, and with every new acquisition to my Flickr account, I feel relieved. If a meteorite hits our house, I’ll still have pictures like this one:

That’s my mom, around the time she met my dad. She played the piano for a living and I think this was a promotional photo. Maybe she’ll see that I’ve posted this picture and threaten me with strangulation, but it’s so lovely that I have to share it. (I especially love her hair.) Just don’t tell her it’s on the internet, okay?

I’ve gotta run because we’re going on a little road trip. We’ll have cheeseburgers and milkshakes for dinner, and the next four days will be spent in the mountains in North Carolina. Everybody enjoy your fireworks tonight.