I'm home. The place where I grew up.
A small town...country log house with a rock driveway.
Something about being home warms my heart.
And calms my soul.
I have to admit. When I think about my husband having a wonderful time with his buddies, drinking, playing golf, watching sports, talking about the good old days.....I'm a bit jealous.
Not that I'd want to be with him and his friends. That's for sure. But the fact that he's on a 'vacation' with palm trees without us.
I've been harping on him about how we (him & I) need to get away together. I have not been anywhere with him overnight since our son has been born. Almost 3 years. And it's weighing on me. Bad.
It's so hard to be so far away from family. So many friends I have in Philly are so blessed to have parents & inlaws that live nearby. Yet they don't know how lucky they are.
When I come home. The birds, the countryside, the dust, the feeling. It's calming to me.
Today? Boston woke up early. Convinced Grandma to take him outside so he could dig for worms.
Then PooPaw took him to Wal-Mart to get a fishing pole & a special toy.
And later? We're going to my cousins house to go for a walk in the woods, go mushroom huntin' then roast marshmallows & hot dogs.
You tell me where I can do that in Philly. Or even when I lived in Chicago.
There's nothing better than Home.