Home, and Yet Not

It is hard to explain what it's like for me to be back here at Dad's house for this long. Every year between the ages of 6 and 18 saw me spending an average of two months here, but the memories of important events that took place here are disproportionate to the amount of time I was actually out here at this secluded old cabin in the woods. It was here that I was shown how to stack lumber, blow my nose, and make a perfect grilled cheese sandwich (shingle it with pickles!). I discovered the wonderfully twisted writings of Dean Koontz, and learned the difference between work and workmanship. More than one tooth fell out here, and one (which I had planned to keep) was knocked clean out of my head in a moment of rough-and-tumble with my brothers. Together, with my dad (and often one or both older brothers)we worked on countless projects which, even today, are a source of pride for me. There was the time we reshingled the roof in what felt like the hottest days of my young life. We built (and rebuilt) at least three docks to the pond, including one on which I learned that, no, it's not okay to pound in a crooked nail! We extended the living room, installed skylights, and dug drainage ditches. Then there was the summer we rescued an abandoned baby raccon. He was the first animal I remember loving, and the day we set him free was also the first time I felt my little heart break.
I've grown up a lot out here in the woods. I have also grown up a lot on this trip around the world. It seems most fitting that, as I approach the end of this adventure, I wind up back where I once was. I'm enjoying the opportunity to make wonderful new memories (including those with 10-year old Ulysse), but sometimes it's worth it to turn around and look at where I've been. I'm so grateful for so many great experiences I've had in my life, but now, just while I'm here, I'm enjoying the chance to sit back and relive a few of them.