The feeling of home...

I'm the child of a career army man.

My dad was in the army for 22 years and retired the same year I graduated from high school.

As most army families we did our share of moving although compared to other military families we didn't move very much at all.  However, even though we weren't moving as much as we could have people we knew were constantly moving so we were always meeting new people and making new friends.  It really shaped me to be who I am and I am thankful for that.  I am able to walk into almost any situation and feel fairly comfortable and make new friends pretty easily.  The downside is I have no life long friends like my husband and his friends.  But....  I wouldn't change it for the world!  I had a fabulous up bringing.  Our life was rich with culture and diversity among other things.  I do wish that was one thing I could give more of to my children. 

There was, however, one place, one town, that really felt like home.  That was the town my mom grew up in and my grandparents still lived in while I was growing up.  Their house and that town was the one constant from the day I was born to now.  To this day when I start down the hill heading into the town and can see my grandparents (old) house sitting on the hill across the river my inner being just melts.  It's kinda hard to really explain.  I think the best way to think about it is this...  You know when you take a very deep breath in and fill your lungs with clean, fresh air then slowly exhale your whole body relaxes?  That's what it feels like to head down the hill into town. 

When we get to the bottom of the hill the small town still looks the same as it did as far back as I can remember.  Yes, there is a dunkin donuts now that wasn't there but right across the street from that is the same gas station/garage that has always been there.  The gas station we would always stop at to fill up the gas tank before the long trip back home, where ever home was at that time.  The person who was working at the gas station always knew my parents and they always knew him, even if it was different people.

I recently went up there to visit a couple of times and this last time I decided to take a walk before heading back out of town. 

I looked at the beauty of the "common", that's what we always called it.  We spent a lot of time there as kids as it was just down the street from my grandparent's house.  In the winter there was ice skating and in the summer there were movie nights and ice cream treats.

This was the hill that lead down from my grandparents house to the common.  (A different hill from the one we drove into town on though.) Walking up and down the hill was full of wonderful memories.  I don't think I could count how many times I made this trip.  Sometimes with my siblings and sometimes with my grandpa. 
After my grandpa had his heart attack ten years before he died he would go for walks every day.  I loved watching him do his stretches before hand.  I also loved going with him.  They weren't fast walks and sometimes we didn't even talk much when we were walking but they are absolutely one of my favorite memories of the time spent with my grandfather.
My mom is the second oldest of nine kids.  The youngest of her siblings, my aunts and uncles, were only a few years or so older then me.  I am pretty sure they were "strongly encouraged" to take me with them when they would go down to the common.  I remember one day when my uncle Pat was going to be walking down and I asked to go with him.  He said I couldn't that day because a shooting star had fallen the night before right onto the common and it would be dangerous for me to go down.  I believed that story for years!  I thought he was so brave to go down there with a fallen star on the common!  He doesn't remember it although I definately do.

This was my grandparent's house although it was sold not long after my grandfather died so someone else owns it.  When we were growing up it was white with green shutters and porch rails.  Plus in the grassy area in front there was a huge tree.  The house still looks big to me but the yard now looks tiny in comparrison to my memories!

Heading down the hill from the house to the common is the church that my parents were married in and I was baptized in.  It's so beautiful!  I remembered hearing the curch bells ring their beautiful ring every hour.  Just this past visit I realized though, that the bells are from a different church on the same street.  I always thought they were from "our church".  None-the-less, they are still beautiful just like I remember them!

At the bottom of the hill, before crossing the street to the common, stands this cannon and pile of cannon balls.  They offered hours of climbing entertainment when I was younger.  It took a little self control for me not to climb on them!! I am pretty sure I would have gotten some pretty strange looks if I did.   It had been so many years since I last took the time to stop and "visit" the cannon.

It was breathtaking to stop and walk around this town that is so familiar to my innermost memories.  Yes, I have been up there many times over then years but I hadn't taken the time to slow down and really enjoy it and "breath it in" in many years.  Probably that makes no sense to anyone but me, and maybe my siblings, but it's the best way I can describe it.

I can happily say that the town I am raising my children in also feels very much like home.  When I go away whether it be for a week, a weekend, or even just a long day, my heart melts when I drive back into our town!  Just in a different kind of way.