Going Home

I am 32 years old and "going home" still means going to the home that I grew up in. I keep trying to change my thinking.....to grow up and recognize that I have a home with my husband and three children. Yes, I guess I do have two homes. But only one of them makes me feel giddy and weepy when we are within 30 miles of the place. My parents still live in the house that we moved to when I was 5 and my sister was 3. Many of my childhood friends' parents still live in the neighborhood. Some of my friends have even moved back. It is easy to see why..... Growing up in Bishop Estates (don't let the name fool you....the house I grew up in was 1780 square feet) made for a wonderful childhood. Bishop Estates is a true neighborhood. Everybody knows everybody. All the kids walked to school together, rode bikes together, participated in the 4th of July parades together and were teammates together on the neighborhood swim team. It was fun and safe and community......and I thought that one day I would be there, too.

But I am not. I am living a great and blessed life.....3 hours from my home town. So, when I get to go home - it is a thrill for me.

My husband has not come right out and said that I am a wacko but I am pretty sure he thinks it when we travel back there. The closer we get, the more "oohing and ahhing" he has to put up with. I think it is beautiful there. The hills and the blue sky and the trees and.....I don't even know what.....just everything....the familiarity of all of it.....that is what is beautiful to me. What my husband comments on is: the traffic. He can't stand it and he loves to complain about it but I try to ignore him and remember that "every party has a pooper...."

The actual house I grew up in looks nothing like it did when I was a child. Well, the outside looks the same, except for the new paint color. (I guess grey and white is more popular these days than yellow and brown.) There is new carpet, new tile, new hardwood, a family room addition downstairs, a master bedroom addition upstairs, all new paint, new windows, new EVERYTHING in the kitchen. All of the rooms have been changed around: the old family room is now an office. My bedroom is now a home gym. The laundry room is now a pantry. The sewing room is now an upstairs laundry room. The old master bedroom is now set up as a nursery for the grandkids. There is a beautiful pool in what was once a cement and grass playground in the backyard.

All of these changes and still, I feel complete and utter peace the second I step through the front door. I am HOME. This is the place that my mom waited for me everyday after school. Always with a snack. Many times warm from the oven. This is the place we ate dinner together every night at six o'clock. The table that we lingered over, long after our meal was finished, is still there. This is the place that my parents kissed every morning before my dad left for work and again each evening when he returned home. This is the place that all of my friends wanted to hang out. This is where my high school boyfriend, now husband, kissed me for the first time.

This is the place that I slammed doors and called names and had temper tantrums in.

This is the place I love.

When it is time to leave, I also look forward to coming to the home I now share with my husband and three children. I am happy to unpack and get organized and prepare for the week ahead. I love getting back into our routine. Right now, the laundry is done, everyone is unpacked (that is a lie....my husband has not touched his bag), the kids all had baths and are snug in their beds. I love this home, too.

Christmas is 4 weeks away. We will be preparing and packing and shopping and wrapping and driving - probably in traffic - and I can't wait......I am going home!