Today we drove home to see Dad and Jim.
We met up at the nursing home and busted Dad out for a few hours. I thought Dad was having one of his better days, that's the good part! We all went for lunch, and Dad ate really well at one of his favorite places. Then, we bid Jim a fond farewell, and Ron and I took Dad for awhile to go play. We had Dad out seeing the sights, visiting with family, and even cheating on his diet with a great ice cream cone! (Thanks, Julianna!)
I gotta tell you something about going home again. You can't do it. Well, I guess technically you physically can. But mentally, I have such a bad feeling when I'm there anymore. Why is that? I lived there for over 30 years. I've been gone now for ten years. Wow, ten years. A lot has happened in ten years. Nothing is the same any more. My home isn't there any more. Most of my family isn't there any more. My good friend isn't there any more. For someplace I've called home for most of my life, I really hate being there any more. I have a knot in my stomach from when I hit the state line going in until I hit the state line again coming out.
I may still call it home, but in truth, my heart doesn't believe it. Maybe if I click my heels together three times, I can find it.
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