Home, aka The House that Built Me

"It’s a four letter word,
A place you go to heal your hurt,
It’s an alter, it’s a shelter,
One place you’re always welcome."

Home.

I watched "Country Strong" a few weeks ago, and the final song by Gwyneth Paltrow really hit me.

I've been thinking a lot lately about where I came from and how I've changed over the years.

Some things I'm proud of. Others not so much. But all my experiences make me who I am today.

I grew up in Utah, where it's a little more relaxed than here in DC. With time I've adapted, but there are some things that just won't change, like opening doors for people, carrying a handkerchief, and giving appreciative waves when I'm driving and someone lets me in. Nor would I want to change those things.

My parents taught me those things, and just about every time I pull my handkerchief out, I think of mom and dad and I'm grateful for their efforts to raise us the best they could, as well as for their continual love for my siblings and me.

Alright, this is getting pretty sappy, so I'll stop.
In short, I'm grateful for the family and the house that built me.