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I forewarn you this is going to be a completely random post, and really nothing to do with writing.

Home. What is it? And when does it change? I grew up in Wisconsin, my parents and all my family still lives there except for a few random relatives here and there. I am the furthest away being in Washington now. Literally half the country away. I am to go back there this weekend to start planning more in depth for my wedding which will be taking place in my parent’s backyard. But that isn’t the purpose of this post. The purpose is more about when does home change and when does it become someplace else.

I love my parents dearly and they keep saying “I can’t wait until you come home to visit.” but now in my heart I feel as if I am leaving my home to go visit them. To go visit my friends still back in Wisconsin. When did this change? This is the question I keep asking myself. The first few times I went back “home” it really did feel like I was coming home. Like I had been away for a long summer camp or something similar. I felt back in the comfort of the walls of my childhood and in the neighborhoods I grew up in. Now I feel like it is almost alien, someplace so foreign I scarcely recognize it. So much has changed in the little time I have been gone. And then I look back and I haven’t really been gone all that short of time. I have been gone more than three years now from that sleepy little Wisconsin town.

I find myself already feeling like I am going to miss my home for those few days, miss my dog Ronnie, who is more like my baby than a dog at this point. I feel myself missing my fiance, Michael,who couldn’t come with me due to work and flights. I feel myself missing the quiet neighborhood I live in currently and thinking “Am I going to miss the trees color changing as they show off their fall colors? Am I going to miss the deep change of Autumn that is already sweeping across my area?”  I know I probably will and then I remember back to my childhood and remember how beautiful Autumns are in Wisconsin. The local apple orchard that makes the best apple cider and apple butter. The little haunts I used to call my own and being able to visit them and I get nostalgic, instead of home sick.

I know it is a part of growing up and living out on your own, especially when at such a young age you decide to move so far away from your birth place. My family didn’t move much growing up, we grew up in the house my parents still live in since I was in kindergarten and I remember the exact place when Roy our bus driver would pick us up for school until he retired. Yes I can still remember his name and probably always will. We lived in one place for most of my life and I think it is safe to say I am glad we did. I have very fond memories in that area and some not so fond ones. But growing into more of an adult I am learning to forget those bad times and just remember the good. Remember all the fun times I had and all the friendships I had over the years instead of the mistakes and hurt feelings along the way.

I know this post probably seems like the ramblings of someone trying to figure out what is going on in life, and you would be right. I am trying to figure out when time changed and I changed. When I started seeing the world differently and I can’t remember the exact date it happened. It wasn’t like some switch got turned on or some dial got changed. It was gradual, it was me turning into an adult and actually realizing that I am happy exactly where I am and that I don’t want to relive part of my childhood. I want to live my own life now and although I will always hold a special place in my heart for where I grew up I know I would never want to move back. That part of my life is done and it is onto the next chapter for me.

In conclusion I think what I really wanted to say is home really is where the heart is and you can have many homes over your lifetime and each one has its own special place in your heart.

Until next time,

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