Home at Last.

We’re here…thank goodness!

The weather is beautiful, we’re surrounded by family and friends, the food is yummy (we’ve already had Ledo’s Pizza, wings, and crab pretzel), and the jetlag is finally gone.  What more can you ask for?

There’s nothing quite as wonderful as coming home again.  Even though this isn’t the house that I grew up in, it’s still my family’s home.  Something about walking through the front door, sitting down on the couch, poking through the pantry, walking around outside…something about it all screams “home” to me.

Of course, it’s not always easy coming home.  One of the hardest things that I always find is striking a balance between being a daughter and a mother when I walk through the front door.  I want to ignore the laundry, read a book, revert back into that lazy teenager that let her mother wait on her hand and foot.  But instead, I bring my children home with me.  Of course, everyone helps out when they see the girls, taking much of the burden off of Marcus and I.  But they’re still our girls, and that changes the dynamic of things when we come home.

In any event, we truly find ourselves blessed to be here.  There really is no place like home.


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