Last night as the plane was descending into Sea-Tac airport I was thinking was nice it was to be going home. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy traveling and I was glad I was able to go to my grandmother's funeral. There's just something about going
home. And there is was. I was going
HOME. There was a period of a few months where I wasn't feeling like this was home and I was torn about that. Where was home? MA where I grew up and had moved from? WA where I was living now? Somewhere else? I've called several places home over the years. None of them really felt like home anymore. But as I was sitting in the airplane, in the middle seat peering out the window over my neighbor it hit me. I was happy to be heading home. Home to my husband. Home to my furbabies. Home to our house. Home to my friends. Home to overcast 60 degree weather.
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Home Sweet Home |
I know this isn't my permanent home. Heaven is. But while I"m here on earth, this is a pretty good place to be.
It's also pretty awesome to come home to a clean house...The Man cleaned before I got home. He's definitely a keeper! I love that man!