What I Love About Going Home

Watching the leaves change on I85 as we go north (well, more north than where we came from).

Trying to explain to the hubby that I know where I am and where I’m going I just don’t know the names of the roads in the town I lived in for 17 years.

Watching peanut play with his cousin and giggle with pure glee when she tosses the magnetic letters off the fridge.

Giving peanut his first taste of barbecue and hush puppies.

Game day in Chapel Hill with the drum cadences and the Bell Tower and the Old Well and one of the most beautiful football stadiums in the country.

Watching peanut follow after Grandpa while he did some yard work.

Seeing the joy and wonder in the eyes of our family as they watch peanut play (and best of all, getting right down on the floor and joining him in his Tupperware band, block architecture or ball tossing).

Seeing old friends, reliving old jokes, meeting new babies and settling into old comforts.

What I’m beginning to realize is that we are now building home for peanut. And that one day, he will hopefully experience the same joys and warmth returning home. Ah, but that implies that I actually let him leave. And for now, I’m enjoying the fact that the farthest he goes from me is across the playground.

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