I am in my childhood bedroom about to go to sleep after having flown cross-country with my kids for a week of spring break fun, and I am struck with a profound sense of how truly fantastic life is.
I lived in this town for most of my first 30 years before my life’s path took me to Seattle. My parents have lived in this house for five decades. It still smells exactly the same when I walk through the front door. My folks still maintain the same routine they have for years and years, and there is a comfort and peace in that which I love.
The fact that I, as a 47-year-old woman, am able to spend the night in this house with my parents and children – the people who made me and whom I made – is a trip.
No matter how old I get or how far I roam, this – right here – will always be home.