A Place to Call Home

We are having a crisis at our house. It is like a magnitude 9 earthquake has come to South Georgia and we are feeling the aftershocks as I type.

One of the decisions Bobby and I made years ago was that we wanted our kids to have a "hometown" to call their own. 

You see, both of us had grown up "Newspaper Brats" which means, like Army Brats, we loaded up an moved every two or three years. This was what we were accustomed to. 

I can't speak for him, but one of the things that happened in my family because of this is WE became our home. What I mean is, wherever we were together, that was our home. Home wasn't so much identified with the walls that surrounded us, but by the love of the people within. 

I have put our house on the market. This was a hard decision that I truly have fought not to make. But, it is time. 

We have lived in this house for 15 years next month. This is by FAR the longest I have ever been in one residence. And, I love this little house. I loved it the first time I peeked in the front door. 

So many memories are there. My heart squeezes to think of the memories fading as the pictures in my mind grow dimmer. 

And, it hurts. 

But, it's just walls. 

I told my daughter last night I think we may have done them a disservice. I think in their minds home is a building. 

But, I say nay nay. Home is too big to be contained within walls made by man. 

Home is wherever we are together. Home is where someone who loves you no matter what you have or have not done waits with arms open. Home is where you feel wrapped up in unconditional love. 

Maybe it was I who was done a disservice. If I had thought of home as a building I would have long ago gotten over the loss. Home would for me now lies on Rocky Pond Rd. where the two people who loved me no matter what I did or didn't do lay in final rest. But, yet I can still feel home inside of me. 

Home. 

To my precious, sweet children. My, how I love you both. You are the best of everything I have ever done. I am so proud of you. And I know this is hard because it is hard for me. But, know this and never doubt it. Wherever we are, wherever we are, that is home. Because home is a feeling, not an address. If we limit what we feel for each other to where we get our mail, we have placed boundaries on a love that knows no bounds. And, I learned from my own home that what we have cannot be contained. Not even the hands of death can take away your home when you carry it with you. I will always be with you. Always. Even when I'm gone. 

You can always, always come home.