Going Home

Today, for the first time in weeks, we went to my husband's parents' house.  It was like going home.  I haven't been to my parents' house, the house I grew up in, in 8 1/2 years.  There are several reasons for that, and would definitely be better suited for a different format.  But we go to my husband's childhood home multiple times per year, sometimes even more than once a month depending on the time of year.  The drive isn't too far, only an hour and a half each way, but it flies by.  I must admit though, that it always seems faster if my husband is driving because I'm free to take a nap.  :)

It's kind of funny how pulling up to their log cabin home out in the country feels like home because I grew up in the middle of a Division-1 college town.  Away from gravel roads and spread-out neighbors.  We may have had very different childhoods, partly because of different growing up locations, but his parents don't treat me any differently than the children born to them, and for that I'm grateful.  It always brings me peace and comfort to go home.