Home

I'm home.

I love that feeling of being home. I love how everything looks the same (until I notice those few changes: a new chair, the new fish, a new centerpiece on the table). Everything smells right. Usually I'd say I know where everything is, but I still don't feel like I know where everything is after the remodel, despite extended visits for holidays and summer vacation. I'm here just infrequently enough to forget.

I love driving around town, how it all is so familiar and I know the pace of the town and the length of the traffic lights and the glow of the street lights and their reflections in the pavement in the high school parking lot. Like in the house, I notice changes. I saw and drove around the new traffic circle on Fourth Street and Hanley tonight. They worked on it all summer and didn't finish before I left, so that was exciting. Driving through my dark neighborhood everything looks content. Sometimes Provo neighborhoods feel worn from the march of humanity who pass through, but my home street feels quiet and personal.

I love going to stores at home. I go to the same stores in Utah, but every store has a different layout and selection wherever you go. I love knowing where I like to park, and then walking in and not needing to think about where the items I need are, but letting my feet guide me.

I love looking out the front door and seeing those houses, and looking out the back windows and seeing this mountain and those trees and that pasture and hearing the bell ring over the yards at the elementary school up the street. This is Summer; this is Thanksgiving; this is Christmas; this is Family; this is Home.