After an exceptionally busy week at work I've headed home for the weekend. So what, you ask, isn't that what we all do? But for me, home this weekend isn't my lovely flat but my real home - where I grew up.
Mum and Dad celebrated their 49th wedding anniversary yesterday - well, celebrated might be a loose description since Dad forgot to send a card or buy flowers and Mum cooked him an inedible meal as revenge! But as part of their 'celebration' they've also got me to put up with for the weekend.
I'd not really realised how much this place is still home to me, until I thought about heading here after work tonight. Although I haven't lived here for over 20 years, and have actually lived away from here longer than I've lived here, it does still feel like home when I'm back. The things around and about the house may have changed but the place is still the same.
It was a magical place to grow up - a huge garden with lots of places to hide and trees to climb, set in a homely village you could wander around and explore without worrying about who everyone was and all set by the seaside - beautiful in all seasons. I think that's perhaps why when I needed somewhere to escape to at the start of the summer, my heart told me to find a place by the sea.
It's good to know that even in the toughest times, there's always somewhere that's home. I guess I'm lucky - I know that's not the case for everyone, and I can't imagine not having that bedrock beneath me.
Thanks Mum and Dad xxx
2 comments:
it certainly was, and still is, a magical place to grow up and call 'home'
looking forward to seeing it again next summer (i've just invited myself over - dad sounded surprised)
There is always something magical about 'home'. However, whilst I love returning to the small town (population 1,700) that I grew up in to visit, I'm generally ready to leave after a day or two!
Hope you've had a lovely visit!
x
Post a Comment