99 WORDS...AND A LITTLE BIT MORE
I consider my home to be on the East side of the Rockies. Probably because I have lived here for over four decades. That doesn’t take the way I feel, or how I do things, out of my life. I found new avenues to give me ways to remind me of my growing up years and the towns and people that molded me to who I am today. I can honestly say that going home does not have to be your homeland, or where you grew up. I have no regrets that I no longer call the place I grew up home. Yet, I recognize those places as being an important part of me, and they will always have a place in my heart and a vault full of memories.
Home, as they say, is where you hang your hat and your heart. What I now call home enables me to embrace the lifestyle in which I was raised. Not because it’s how I live, but because I can. I have met and been welcomed by people who I know are life-long friends. Doors are always open (I even have my own key to one or two) and the welcome mat is there to invite me in. When I hear the words, “Welcome home,” my heart sings because I know it to be so.
The photograph in this post is taken from one of those gravel roads that truly makes me feel like I am going home. It gives me a feeling of calm, euphoria, and love, along with a chastising word or two for not going more often.