House That Built Me
For the first time in 3 and half years, I am going home! By the time this post hits live, I should be just about there. I am excited… Colorado is beautiful, and it is my current home, but there is nothing like the back woods of Michigan to make me feel complete.
Michigan is such a beautiful state, especially when you enter “mid-mitten”. The trees, the lakes… the wild life… the clean fresh smells…. Heaven on earth, if there is such a thing.
As I sit and write this post, I had to smile to myself with all the family memories that I have, that have made me who I am.
Miranda Lambert’s song “House That Built Me” sums up my feelings of home the best. It’s almost like that song was written for me. Seeing a trend here? I always have a “song for that”! for just about everything in my life. To me, life is music, music is life.
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
this brokenness inside me might start healing.
Out here its like I’m someone else,
I thought that maybe I could find myself.
If I could just come in I swear I’ll leave.
Won’t take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me.
You leave home, you move on and you do the best you can.
I got lost in this whole world and forgot who I am.
“The House That Built Me” By Miranda Lambert
The summers spent on my aunt’s farm… bailing hay, milking cows…. Knowing that my grandpa built that old house and my dad was born in it…. I can appreciate all of that now that I am older. As a child, I have to admit that it hadn’t hit me; the family history, and the traditions that I may have taken for granted back then.
Some of my favorite memories from my childhood are all centered on that old farm. It’s where I learned to cook, can, make soap and other various things. Before my grandma passed away, it was her, my aunt, and I camped around an old table my grampa made out of an old barn door. She would never allow running water into her house… at the time I thought that was weird, but now that I am older, I get it. She never had it growing up herself, to her it was normal. I think we all felt lucky she had my dad and uncles finally put electricity in.
When I was 7, that all changed… It was only my aunt and I camped out around that table, and we had running water in the house. Such a bitter-sweet memory for me as I sit and type this post. I am looking forward to reliving that memory with my aunt in the next few weeks. She is almost 90 now, and I am a lot older, but things will still be the same, including the height chart on the door jamb that leads to the back porch.
You really can go home again. As I set to pass the lake I used to fish with my grandpa and pull onto that old dirt road that leads to the house, all the memories will flood me as they become reality again. I will remember who I am and where I came from.
Have any childhood memories from the “house that built you”? Feel free to share with us in the comments!