“The House That Built Me.”

“I know they say you can’t go home again,

I just had to come back one last time.

Ma’am I know you don’t know me from Adam,

But these handprints on the front steps are mine.”

- Miranda Lambert

For many of us, we don’t live in the home where we grew up. In some instances our parents have moved to another home, down sized, or have divorced and moved on to a new relationship. No matter what the circumstances, there will always be a connection between the house “that built me” and who I am today. I am lucky however, because my Dad still lives in the house that I pretty much grew up in. My Mom and Dad moved into the house in the summer of 1964---six years after I was born.

When I go home I see subtle changes. Sometimes it’s a wall that has been painted, a bathroom remodeled, or something as simple as a new car in the garage. Our house on Heather Ridge Drive is where I grew up, and where my most precious memories of my early life still reside. On the street you will see some familiar names on the mailboxes; after all of these years, there are a handful of neighbors who have not moved.

What’s interesting is when you go home, and of course people are not going to know who you are, and you just take time to look around;all of the memories come rushing in and you visually travel back through time---some are funny, some not, but all are part of who you are today. Every once in a while, you connect with someone from the days when you were being molded; in my case, it happened through Facebook. Cherie Leeser and her family lived on our street, her parents still do---and even though I didn't know Cherie too well, we have a common bond. She's a few years older than I am, still is, but through the process of “increasing the years in our life---AKA getting older”---we have reconnected. As we all know, when you get older, years mean less and less.

Recently Cherie went home to visit her family; like myself and my sister, she lives out of town. The other day she sent me pictures from her trip back to Westbury Manor (The subdivision where we grew up) and it's the reason I wrote this blog today. Since she is a reader of “Snap.Shot,” as is my sister, I sense when we go home we search the home for reminders, connections, and remnants of our lives that still live in the walls where we grew up. Memories are powerful reminders of our past---I love knowing they are a part of the person I am today.

I know there is going to be a time when I will not be able to walk in the door of the house where I grew up. That’s something I am not looking forward to experiencing; but then again, we don’t live forever. This is the house where we sat around the dinner table discussing the day’s events, the yard where my brother and I played catch, and most important this home contains the room where I grew up.

One of my favorite shows as an adult, was the “Wonder Years.” Like Kevin, who stars in the show, I have that voice in my head that tried to assume the future---and like Kevin I was often wrong. But what a life I had in the “House That Built Me;” with an older sister and brother---and a Mom and Dad who raised me through my "Wonder Years" all I can say is, "Thanks."

The photo above is the “House That Built Me.” For the last 46 years I have always known that no matter what point in my life I happened to be in, there was always a place I could call home. Built with trust, care, and love---Miranda Lambert sings it best, “If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave, won’t take nothing but a memory, from the house that built me.” (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DQYNM6SjD_o)

Thanks for stopping by.