First Holiday Home

Having a "broken home" we are used to celebrating holidays on days other than the actual date of the holiday. Because of that and many other reasons, we decided to go home for an early Thanksgiving this weekend. It was great in some ways. Seeing family, of course, was wonderful.

I spent most of the time either at my parent's home or my brother's place. There was lots of conversation and catching up. Everyone got along except the dogs. My 33 lb. dog is scared of my brother's 5 lb. Chihuahua. Crazy. So that took some finagling since we stayed at his place.

To calm my dog down, I had to load her up and take her for a drive last night. As I started out, I thought seeing the water would be nice even though it was dark out. The particular route I took tore into my heart.

As crazy as it sounds, the sight of doctors offices, restaurants, and neighborhoods made me cry. I realized it wasn't a town I left behind in the move, it was a life. A routine. Oodles of memories. Thirty years in an area leaves a mark.

Did we do the right thing? Only time will tell. I just know my son is happy and has no intentions of moving back. The decision will come down to me picking between him and my parents. Yikes. I know, some think the decision is a no brainer, but it's not for me. Today will be hard as we leave. I will have to get in the car again and choose to leave my old life behind. God help me, please!