Saturday, November 10, 2012

Going Home

It always happen that the moment I pull into the drive way, unpack my car, and walk in the doors of home that I sigh. Middlebury. While as much is different, much is the same. John's "ramson" note is still on the wall of the garage.  (To be a proper kidnapper, you have to leave a note; it's only appropriate that you leave one with black marker on the garage wall.) Three Forks, my favorite spot made up of three trees, is still across the street.  There are pictures still of me and my brother all over the place.

The walls are different now. The paint is a new color. There's a new couch.  Ironically, the couch matches my couch back over the state line. My mom's favorite spot is my favorite spot. My Dad is gone this time, off traveling for work, and my brother is visiting my Auntie. Today, was me and my mom, and we rested, (okay, actually I rested and she did homework like a good student). Tomorrow we're going to church, and to Cheddars (my favorite, but new to town).

There's nothing like having a place to call home.  Home is not just a building, a specific location. Home is with people. Home is a place you can go to and just be.

I go home, and I get stuck there, and never want to leave, but the world is out there calling out demanding that I come and see.  I'd really just rather lay on the couch.  

"Home is a place you grow up wanting to leave, and grow old wanting to get back to."
~John Ed Pearce

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