You know, home, home. Home where your mom cooks for you, home where you find the weirdest little time warp decorative pieces, home where everything is in the same place it was when you were 7 (except the silverware, why in the world after all these years would you switch that? it messes with me everytime). That kind of home.
I got married. I grew up. (yeah in that order) we had a baby. we bought a house. we built our own home. and it's great. and gets better every day. i love our home. the people, the things, the smells. all of it. because it's ours and we did it together. just me and the husband.
but for all that building and working on our own home, the old home, never stopped feeling like home.
until this weekend.
we went home for thanksgiving and it all felt different. familiar still. but so different.
they're building and changing at home.
and so am I, but it's here at my home, with my own, new people.
strange business, this getting older.
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