Home

I spoke with my parents on the phone yesterday. They're planning on moving to Fargo, or wherever we end up, in the next year or two. You might be thinking they're forcing themselves on us, but it was actually my idea. I'm very close to my parents, as an only child, and since they're getting older, I just hate the idea of being far away if they ever needed help. Plus, since we're planning on having a baby in the next year or two, I'd also hate for them to be such a long way away from their grandchild(ren). Actually the idea went more like this: I'd hate for them to be such a long way away when my in-laws are much closer. I know, it's kind of an evil little thought I had, but I had it none the less. I don't want my kid growing up with one set of grandparents so much closer than the other, especially when it would be MY parents that are far away!
Anyway, all this has led me to imagine what it would be like to not go "home" to Iowa, to the old, rickety farm house that I grew up in. I love that place, and I never knew it before I contemplated never seeing it again. I just know that when it gets sold, I'll take my children back there to see the house that mom grew up in, and I'll still think of it as mine. I'll be so weird. Knowing I roamed that yard as a kid, played with our dogs and cats, raised bunnies, drove the lawn mower around with my best friend Bradi sitting next to me, learned to ride a bike, made homemade ice cream in the driveway on the 4th of July, had treasure hunts, and so many other things, it'll always be mine. I guess I have to remember that I can take the memories with me wherever I go. At least I know my kids will have great memories with their grandparents now, and honestly, I think that's what counts. (For the grandparents, too!)