Home.

“I'm going home,

Back to the place where I belong,

And where your love has always been enough for me.

I'm running from.

No, I think you got me all wrong.

I don't regret this life I chose for me.

But these places and these faces are getting old

So I'm going home.”

-Chris Daughtry

From my home to my hometown is 311.3 miles. Exactly. As far as how long it takes to make the trip, that all depends on how many people are in the car with me. (I.E. the number of stops we make.) But once I cross the state line, and the “Welcome to Missouri” sign is staring me in the face, it doesn’t take long for the memories to rush forward. The memory of my old room, old stomping grounds, and old friends---this trip I have been fortunate to experience all 3, but the best part of the trip has been spending time with my folks.

My Mom is in hospice and the time I am spending with her is something that cannot, and will not, be replicated.

Going home has always been a different experience for me; when you grow up in a city, and have spent most of your life there, it must be natural to assume that all will be the same when you walk through the door of your home. However as soon as I walk into the house, the ceilings seem lower (could I have grown at my age?) my bedroom seems smaller---but the food is always the same. Some things thankfully never change.

I love memories; I love how they mold the person who I have become. Part of me will always have St. Louis as part of my DNA no matter where I live---and there is little doubt the Arch is part of St. Louis. What I like about this picture is the angle; I have not seen it shot from this vantage point very often and that’s one of the coolest things about going home, every time you see something different you didn’t see before.

I like weekends like this; it’s nice to be home.

Thanks for stopping by.