Today I went to my parent's house to help with a few things. It was a quick day trip and I was able to be of some help. But as I was driving up, I thought about the idea of "home." I wasn't going "home" this morning, I was going to my parent's house. Yet on my return trip, I couldn't wait to get "home." Coming "home" wasn't about the bricks and mortar, it was about these guys:
Home stopped being an address a long time ago. I love my parents so very much, but their house isn't my home anymore. When they move, I may miss going to the town to see them, but I will be anxious to see them wherever they are. I have a feeling it will be that way with these guys too. Houses are great, but they're not homes. I'm not really home until I'm with these three yahoos. And home is a pretty great place to be.
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