There's no place like home...

I found myself heading north again late Monday night in preparation for helping my parents move to their new home in the next county north (about 15 miles from their "old" home). They now no longer live in the home they built the year I was born and have lived in ever since. It's weird. I thought I'd be really sad or nostalgic or something. But that didn't really happen. I have been gone from the house, at this point, a year longer than I lived there growing up... and my bedroom was long ago redecorated into a guest room that in no way resembles the way it looked when it was "mine." But still. I came home from the hospital to that house. I probably lost my first tooth there. I learned how to play the piano and clarinet there. I learned (not without many tears of frustration) how to rollerskate (on four wheels, thank you very much) and ride my bike there. I had my high school graduation party there. I got ready for my wedding there...

The move actually took place Tuesday and went well. There is a lot of unpacking to do at the new house and some odds and ends to retrieve from the old house, but the bulk of it is complete. And most importantly, I completed my main task of getting their computer hooked up at the new place and getting their new email accounts created and working (and teaching them how to use the new provider's email interface). Check, check, and check. I have received several emails from my mom and dad since returning home, and since no one was at the house to help them, I guess I taught them well. :)

But back to the old house. I stopped there yesterday morning on my way home to pick up a bench. Dad was there waiting for the TV guy to come to take the flat panel off the wall and transport it up to the new house and install. I walked through the house for what will probably be the last time. I didn't have enough time to do what they do on Survivor and pause in each room and share a memory or say something nice about each room (ha ha), but it was strange to walk through the house with it being mostly empty. Everything echoed. I'm actually feeling more sad right now writing about it than I felt while I was actually walking through.

So now when we go home for a visit -- our first one will be Thanksgiving -- it will be to an unfamiliar area, in a house where we don't know where anything is and where much of the furnishings are new. We may feel more like visitors at first, but it's true that "home is where the heart is." My parents have hearts of gold and are some of the most generous, loving, family-oriented people around. So, as long as they're there, it'll be home.