You Really Can't Go Home Again...

It was time.

Time for

my boy man

to come home

for a visit.

I love going

to pick him up.

Reminds me of home.

I did not live in the country,

but my Dad certainly

showed us a lot

of the country side growing up.

These roads remind me of home.



My home

is 120 miles north

of here.

We were able

to stop

and look around

on our way further north

to see some family.

I hesitate to share these

photos

of my home growing up.

I get melancholy

seeing our old place.

How I'd love

to be in there with

my family again...

when times

were innocent,

easy

and filled with love.

It makes me sad to see

my old home now,

it looks nothing

like it once did.

My grandfather, Dad and

my Dad's brother's built

the house.

It was always

a pretty little place,

white

with a great big, gigantic

yard with lilacs out front

and my Dad's amazing

vegetable gardens out back.

Mom had her flowers

all around the house,

all bright and perky...

greeting all

visitors from all sides.

Here it is today:

While it looks

far different on the outside,

I can only

hope it holds

as much love inside

as when I lived there.