Home

Several days of my week of vacation (which is a treasured occasion to say the least!) and the weekends that followed have been spent painting, packing, and preparing to sell our house and move the big G.I. Each week as things slowly get packed up and taken to storage, I'm already starting to miss our house. It isn't even for sale yet, and I'm already missing this place we've called home.

Who are those people who move into this house five years ago? No Herbie. No Lambeau. No Owen! I hadn't started med school, and Jason hadn't even finished college. We were a few pounds lighter, and thankfully, Jason didn't have much more hair to lose. The '96 red neon was parked in the driveway, and the third bedroom was just used for storage. I was excited to have a laundry room that didn't take quarters, and Jason was excited to have a lawn of his own to mow.

Now, Herbie has worn a path around the backyard, and the neighbor cats still come around looking for Lambeau. Owen has spit up, crawled, and is now running on our "new" carpet. Med school feels like forever ago, and Jason is well on his way to his Master's. Jason blames Owen for his pant size, and I'm blaming Owen's brother for mine. The neon is long gone, and our driveway has since been graced by the little red Ranger, our Mitsubishi, and now the Rendezvous. The third bedroom has been through multiple make-overs: from a closet, to a dining room, to a nursery, and now to a little boy's favorite place to hang out. I'm a little less excited about doing laundry, but Jason still has the same smile on his face mowing the lawn as he did the first day. (By the way, he still mows it twice every time in different directions to "get the mulch.")

Sometime this summer we'll be pulling all of those boxes back out of storage and unpacking into a new place in Grand Island. Memories will be made there just as they have been in every other place we've called home. That's the best part about home, isn't it: it has a way of finding you where ever, and whenever, you go.