Home.

Another winter's day has come and gone away in Paris and Rome, but i want to go home...
....
Lately, I've been thinking about my street at home. A few weekends ago as i was pulling onto my street after my five hour drive, i was floored by how beautiful it was, not just aesthetically, but because of all of the memories that hang in the air around it. I am blessed to live in an amazing part of town...not in a suburban neighborhood, full of houses that all look the same, but on a street in the downtown river area overhung by enormous trees, in a house that we didn't build ourselves, but has been there for a century. What our house and our street lack in size and glamor, it makes up for in charm. It's a modest city neighborhood, but it's comfortable in the fact that it has that "lived in" feeling to it. It is where i have always wanted to live when i dream about my future. I love my home, and the street i live on. But i think what hits me most is the memories. That small city block has been the place where some of my most memorable moments have taken place. One night in high school, a friend and i climbed out of my window and onto my roof, with blankets and pillows and fell asleep. Jon and i sat on my porch swing until five o clock in the morning just because we could. My friends and i used to sit on the stoop in front of my house, just talking. I took so many walks up and down that street and throughout the neighborhood...got dropped off at my front door after dates... sat in the rocking chair on the porch by myself just thinking. I love the memories I've made on my street, and there isn't a time that i come home and don't remember all of the cool nights spent walking, and stargazing, and holding hands on that street. A home can be anywhere...you can have more than one...it can even just be people. I am so blessed to have a place i can love coming home to. I'm so glad that God put that into his plan...letting us find a place that brings us comfort and peace. I can't wait to be back.