Home is where the heart is

I certainly don't think of myself as being "well-traveled".  Never made that trip out west like I've always wanted, never been to NYC, to Europe?  I wish.  But I definitely feel I've had lots of addresses within the last ten years.  There were the five addresses in my four year stay in Raleigh.  (really?)  Then we squeezed in a short stay in Birmingham.  Then came the big move to Roanoke.  We had an apartment for a few months, then we purchased our first home.  This home was so special and so good to us.  It survived our first few years of marriage, it witnessed those long, tiresome nights when we first brought home Emma.  It saw her take her first steps, eat her first birthday cake, and speak her first words.  Wonderful memories indeed.

 And oh the friendships made along the way.  The kind that will last a lifetime.  I'll still be reminiscing with these folks when it's Emma's turn to go to college or have her first child.

But through all these many addresses, all these wonderful experiences, all these cherished friendships, my heart kept pulling me back to my roots.  To where it thinks is home.

 

Well, I'm so happy to say, our newest address is the closest to home I've been in a long time.  We've only been here a week and I can already feel a rekindling of my former self.  There is just something about returning home that just warms the soul.  My heart, so to speak, is happy.