It’s a quiet morning.

Michigan feels dreamy, like something out of a fairy tale. Sitting in the house of my parents, pieces of their new space are coming alive with a style of their own, feeling like the Texas house. Even in Michigan the house is theirs. The drive is longer than it was to Arkansas but for family? It’s worth it.

Outside their backyard is wilderness. Scattered trees, a smattering of grass, bushes, flowers, and wild greenery. Then you have deer and wild turkeys wandering through their yard without a care in the world. Well, except for the barking dog locked inside the house, a black lab, Lyla. She wants to taste the turkeys and chase the deer. But Mom and Dad think it’s better for this year-old-pup to stay inside.

Trying to get settled into a new home with various medical issues is tough enough. The movers lost some precious items, thankfully not their photographs, one of their most precious possessions. But the sectional, a beautiful wrought-iron one piece of glass mirror, and the Murphy bed are all broken, nothing except the sectional worth salvaging. You rarely see Dad get upset or angry anymore, but the frustration in his voice is obvious. That and the eye roll, something all the Class men inherited, like it or not.

It feels good to be reunited with family. The love and warmth is felt the second we arrived, regardless of how exhausted they felt. Mom doesn’t sleep much and Dad has his hands full with the dog and managing two companies in a remote capacity.

For me and Alissa this is a pseudo-vacation, enjoying the time to catch up, listen, and hear stories we’ve heard, and some we’ve never heard before. But we’re also here to serve, to help do the things that they can’t get done alone.

Like watching the wildlife through their windows.

Life is moving like the Mississippi. Slow. Meandering. And peaceful.