There is, indeed, no place like home

Someone started a "Remember [my hometown] When..." group on facebook this week. I was invited to join and spent nearly an hour and a half in NostalgiaLand. I currently live in the town where I grew up. My family moved here when I was almost 2, so I spent nearly my entire childhood in this town. That's what it was back then - a town. A small suburb to the north of a big city. Of course, today, it is a city of its own, big enough for 3 high schools which are again close to bursting at the seams.

I attended university almost an hour away but came home on weekends when I could. And I lived with my parents during the summers. When I graduated, I married Super D and moved 2 hours from home. And that's what my hometown has always been to me - HOME.

My parents continued to live here, and Super D and I came home to visit several times each year. We lived in the next closest big city. I found out that while I enjoy living in the city, I don't enjoy living in a BIG city. So when life offered me the chance to move back home, I was ecstatic. Super D had mentioned many times in the past that he would love to live here and raise our kids here. I found it was very easy to move from the place which had always only felt like a second home. I think he would say that this truly feels like home to him, too. It always was.

I love my suburb. I like that I can drive anywhere I want to and be there in 15 minutes. I like seeing remnants of my childhood hangouts. I enjoy telling my children about the box store that used to be a Godfather's Pizza or the cable building which used to be a skating rink. It is pure joy for me to make new memories with my family at some of the same places which hold my old memories, like the bowling alley or the library. We still attend the same summer festivals which have been city staples since I was my children's ages.

Some things have changed very little, but most of what I remember has been altered or is simply gone. But the memories are there. And apparently, other people remember them, too. That's comforting.