Home.

Going home is like a breath of fresh air. It rejuvenates me when I'm feeling worn down. It restores my faith in all that is wholesome and pure. Is my hometown perfect? Heavens no! But it is and will always be my home, so it is perfect to me.

As I sit quietly in the house my grandparents built in the 1960's, I can hear the sound of the clock and nothing else...well, except for the sound of my fingers typing this. My parents now live in this house, the house my dad grew up in. I remember coming to eat Saturday lunch here at grand mom's house. She would have a huge lunch spread full of the usuals: ham, cornbread, black eyed peas, squash casserole and a huge pitcher of sweet tea. We had cookies for dessert, of course, because as kids that was our favorite dessert. I didn't like nuts in my chocolate chip cookies so being the youngest of nine grandchildren and having the tendency to be a tad bit um...shall we say spoiled?... I received my very own nut free batch, naturally.  ;) I remember the way this house smelled when she was baking and even when she wasn't baking the smell of warm sugar still lingered in the air.

In this same home, some 20 years later, I sit in the same spot but on a different and newer couch (with much more pillows I might add - my mom has a thing for throw pillows and we like to tease her about her mountain of the unnecessary pillows). As I sit on this couch, in this house, the house where our wedding reception was held I might add, I have a flood of memories. It's almost overwhelming and definitely impossible to describe in words since I am most definitely not a writer. It's a comforting feeling. Sometimes just being in this house fills me with such overwhelming emotions, I just start to cry for no other reason than just recalling all the good times our family has shared in this house. Other times, I walk through the back door and instantly smile when I remember the way grandmother would yell "Yoo Whoo!" every time someone would come inside. :)

Home.

It's like snuggling up by the fire with a good book, hot chocolate and your favorite blanket on a cold winter's day. It just feels good. It just feels... right. Like it has always been and will always be.

This is why I love coming home.