The way I see it...

The House That Built Me

Do you ever hear a song on the radio and think, I can relate to that? I was driving the other day, heard a new song by Miranda Lambert, listened to the words and thought that exact thing. The name of the song is, “The House That Built Me.”

Here’s a sampling of the lyrics:
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...
You leave home and you move on and you do the best you can

That’s how I feel about my own home. I know I’ve told you I grew up in Armstrong, but my parents don’t live there anymore. I hardly ever go back, except for a wedding. My blue two-story house that I grew up in is no longer the same. Tan colored siding and a big addition and new garage have replaced the home of my childhood.

I loved that house. My family of five sharing one bathroom. My brother and I using a sleeping bag like a sled and sliding down the steps and right into my parents bedroom. The big backyard where we played countless hours of ball and the same for the driveway. How hot it would get upstairs in the summer, which forced us to sleep on the porch with the windows open. The yellow wallpaper in the kitchen (which I’m convinced is why, to this day, I love yellow kitchens!).

I could knock on the door of that same house and ask the current owner for a peek inside, just like what happens in the song, but I can’t. I don’t even want to. It won’t be the same as the picture that I have in my head. Like the song says, “You leave home and you move on,” which I agree with. They say that home is wherever you are or wherever your heart is or something like that. I really think I only have one true home and mine is that blue house, but that’s just the way I see it.