There's No Place Like Home

  It's true when they say there's no place like home. I love the home I share with my husband. I love having a kitchen full of equipment and a bed I once only dreamed of, but there will always be a part of me that calls my parents' house "home". I lived there for 22 years and returned home for a short (or not so short) period of time before JG and I were engaged just a few years ago. It's one of the few places I feel like myself. A place I can go to regroup, cry if I need to, and say things only parents understand. If you have ever met my parents you know that any amount of kindness I put forth is a direct result their teaching.
   I know they say the older you get, the more you appreciate your family, but it takes on a whole new level at a certain stage of your life. Over the years, I've watched my parents transition from our bosses,to our supervisors, and now to our friends. They were, and still are, wonderful parents to all of us. (And I'm fairly certain my husband would say they are remarkable in-laws) They were strict, set their expectations high and their tolerances low, but they taught us to be the people we are. They taught us to be individuals who are kind to strangers, generous to causes they believe in, family oriented, and most importantly, guided in faith.
   I got to thinking about how fortunate I am the other night on the way home from their house. JG was gone to the Pacer's game and I opted for a quick visit. A "quick visit" turned into 4+ hours, dinner, and a bottle of wine and I could have stayed longer. We talked about healthcare, the demise of our country, the Jodi something or another murder trial, home decor, and pizza pies and it was wonderful. It's strange how the people you once took for granted, become the people you look for to center and re-focus you in times a need. These are my parents. They are lovely, kind, beautiful, and brilliant.