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That old familiar turn, where the road meets the wall where the trains pass you by. That once lonely oak tree straining it's arms toward the sun. The rusty crocked fence that was in bad need of oiling, that squeked when it was opened and needed to be lifted to be closed once more. That path of freshly turned earth with flowers planted by tiny hands. That old door that had been broken more times than I chose to remember. The dips and curves of floor boards that brought many good days and many hard times. This is home. That ancient smell that I can't remember, a nook and hole here, from generations old. I can't remember many things, but I remember home. I remember the life I had there, the laughter and the tears. The growing pains. One day I hope I can go home, back to that place I learned about life, that place that showed me my past was the past. Where I first fell in love, where I finally fell for good. It holds so much for me, that good ol' town. The lopsided sidewalks and towering pine trees. The people there are the people that make me want to go back. Someday, when I am settled I will be going home, to the place that took me under it's wing and taught me to fly. To the place where my family lies. Going home....

Welcome to Gaia! :: View User's Journal | Gaia Journals

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