so, obviously, I am doing five minute Friday on Saturday. But, my time with the computer is few and far between these days, so I take the writing minutes as they come. Here goes...
Home is a small Alabama town, "where the mountains meet the lake," and that is how Ada knows we are almost there. As we drive down the winding mountain roads, and the water comes into view. "John, John, we're almost there!!" she cries.
Home was Friday night football, homecoming parades, cheerleading practice, and every small town cliche you've ever heard. A graduating class of 145. We didn't even have a private school in our town. It's no Target and the square and driving to Huntsville on the weekends just to find something to do.
It's memories everywhere I turn and feeling eternally 17.
More specifically it's a back porch, the summer night surrounding me with damp humidity. My sisters and I on the porch swing, the glider, anywhere we can find a spot. It's laughter. So much laughter.
home is what I feel as I drive into Atlanta at night, the lights bright, the traffic heavy. The thrill of a city, but not just any city. Atlanta is mine now.
More specifically, home is a cozy red brick house two minutes from our town's square. It's once again the feel of a small town, but this time with the benefits of suburbia. Mostly, it's these children of mine. Scott. All of us tucked in tight to this house that was never supposed to be home. But it is. It definitely is.