As many of you know I grew up as a military brat so we were never really in the same place for very long. Granted I spent the majority of my childhood living in Abilene, TX we still bounced around from house to house every couple of years as my dad's responsibilities in the Air Force grew. So while a lot of my friends have that one home (that their parents usually still live in) that they call home, there isn't really one house that stands out among the many that we lived in when I was a kid. Que the sad violin music now...jk.
There was one constant when I was growing up though, my grandparents' home in Swartz Creek, MI. I spent every summer there for most of my formative years. The great thing about summering in Michigan is that I got to miss out on a big chunk of the Texas summer when it's known to get as hot as 116 degrees outside. Not too much fun when you're a kid and you're bursting to go outside to play. My grandparents' home offered plenty of lush grass to roll around in (an oddity to a West Texas girl), fireflies to catch at night, and sleeping with the windows open. Now of course there was a summer or two when it would get into the 90s and the humidity would make life without central AC down right sticky. After a couple of days of the heat, a nice refreshing rain would come along and we would be back into the comfortable low 80s. My aunts and uncles would interrogate me as to how I could possibly wear jeans when it's 80 degrees outside. I would say something along the lines of "um, duuuh! This is winter weather where I live! Like oh my gosh!" I was a tween in the 90s. Sorry.
There would be "camping" trips to my great grandparents' lake house where my cousin Brandon and I would roast marshmallows until we got tummy aches. My grandpa would try to take me fishing, but I would put one foot inside the shaky canoe and freak out. I would then convince my grandma to go paddle boating with me and talk about big grown up topics (menses).
Yesterday my aunt, who is more like a barely older-sister-in-law to me, Lindsay posted a picture of her little one, the sweet flower girl you met here and here and will meet again once I unpack the CD of wedding pictures, paddle boating with our great grandma at the lake house. Man oh man did that tug at this girl's over nostalgic heart strings. I would give anything to go back to the summer of '98 just for a few moments to savor being in that place. Being with family. Being outdoors. Being home. Being in love with JTT.
I guess the moral of this little trip down memory lane is that home doesn't have to be a house or even a town that a person grew up in. Home can be a place in your heart where you are happy and know you are loved. Home can be a memory. Home can even be just the company of loved ones.
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