I went home a few weekends ago. It had been way too long. I traveled those well-worn roads of my youth, and the memories flooded back to the forefront of my mind. They say you can’t go home again…I disagree. While it may not look exactly the same, enough of it does to make you remember and feel comforted. That’s what I felt this past weekend. I saw the street my grandpa lived on, and drove the streets I trick or treated on as a child. I stayed with my mother at our ranch outside of town where I was raised. It was peaceful and relaxing. I’ve missed that old place. I was in such a rush to get out of there as a teenager that I have forgotten how important it was to me. I realized it again this weekend. Wanderlust gives you a sense of belonging and comfort in all places, but nothing like the home of your youth. But as much as I had missed my childhood home, I also missed the new home that I’ve created with my husband. It made coming back that much sweeter. Be content at home, wherever it is.