Home

Bill and I argue sometimes about where "home" really is for us. I think, in truth, home is where we are all together.  But this week, being back in my childhood home in Atlanta/Sandy Springs, I have been reminded of my youth day in and day out. Just driving in and out of our neighborhood brings back memories. I remember when I first got my drivers license and got to go to the grocery for Mom, I remember wanting to wait at the bottom of a friends driveway when her mom would back down in her station wagon because it was kind of like a roller coaster to me, and of course the summers spent at the neighborhood pool, many happy memories. The landscape of Atlanta has changed a good bit but many of the places I have gone over the years are still here - the shoe repair place, my hair salon, El Azteca Mexican restaurant.  Other new places of interest have popped up as well. Last night, Mom prepared a meal that I remembered having when I was growing up, baked chicken and rice with a special BBQ sauce simmered in. Now my boys have experienced the same meal. It is funny and wonderful how food can trigger memories of time passed as we sit together and make more.