You CAN go home again

It’s weird.
I’m sitting in the living room of the house I grew up in, working on show prep. OK, right now, I’m taking a break to reflect on all the memories surrounding me.
I’m in the living room of a home that my parents bought new the year before I was born. This is the room where I found that bike by the Christmas tree…where my sisters and I would come out on Easter morning to see our baskets full of candy….where I can still see my Scottish grandmother sitting on the couch….where I took the girls of my dreams to prom and posed for pictures….where Dad took home movies of us with an 8-mm camera and a giant light bar that one sister swears is the reason we all needed glasses.
Oh, the furniture and carpet is new, the big picture window replaced. But the pictures in the cabinet on the wall are testimony to the many years that have rolled by.
The one of Victoria and I reminds me that MY home is now elsewhere…but for the first 18 years of my life, this is where my life happened. This WAS my home…a GREAT home…I guess I should be very thankful to the person upstairs inn charge for letting me get my start here.
Oh and thanks to you, too, mom and dad.

Tim Hunter
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