you CAN go home again ....

I am sitting here this morning in my parents' kitchen, at my granny's oak table (I was with her when she searched high & low at used furniture stores to find the right one- many, Many, MANY years ago) ..... only it's not my parents' home or granny's table anymore .... it belongs to my first born, Terry. Amazingly, ironically, 7-8 years ago, when the family was gathered here for Thanksgiving, a joke came about that soon had many of us putting sticky notes on various items about the house. Personally, I put my one & only note on a stainless steel, penguin rimmed, ice bucket. The idea of it all was that it would help mom & dad to remember what items should go to what people in the event of their demise. Over the years, these items have, indeed, migrated to the noted recipients. (by purchase or otherwise) And Terry .... well he put his sticky note on the door jam of this very house!! Many changes have occurred since they bought the house brand, spanking, new in 1966.... but it still feels like home. Of course whenever I am in the presence of family .... it always feels like home. It always feels like it was "just yesterday". I love my family. I love their forgiving, accepting, comical ways. So- here & now, I not only am sitting at the "old" table, in my "old" home, but in wait of my breakfast now being cooked by the new generation that owns it.