The house that built me

"won't take nothing but a memory, from the house that built me"

This weekend marks the 4th year since Luke and I moved to nc. Because of that, it also marks the fourth year since my parents moved out of the house I grew up in. Last weekend I attended the ordination of some friends at my old church. Tis meant going to Middletown. This meant of course going by the old house.

Though maybe twice a year I get to do this, it is always a surreal experience. This time, leaving from the old house to go to church was this amazing overload of familiarity from every Sunday morning when I was younger. Uo fulling mill, past the old fire house, around the curve by the a frame. Past mr. Cooks house and around the curve to the high school. Past the tennis courts where we used to hit "home runs" at the passing cars, and watching the people on the "one mile". By Frey where my great grandma spent her last years and into town. By the keirch, sat at the light by Quido's and turn onto spring street (where I spent the first 6 months of my life).

It's crazy how easy it is to forget this drive, that house, that town. And yet how easy it is to come back to and turn on auto pilot.

It was great to walk into that church and smell the familiar, see what I saw for so long in the church that formed me. It was a bit surreal to see my friends entering into be official leaders of the church in the church that helped me see that I am called to be a leader in the church. It all formed me for 18 years of my life.

912 swatara drive looks different now. Different enough that I don't feel as attached to it. Each time I go and take a pic on my phone to send to my family, but this time I didn't even send it. Its not the same house. Besides the different door, mailbox, and huge olayset in the yard, it's not ours. A new family is making new memories and growing in their way in that house.

I'm sure that it is as beautiful as our time was.

And I'll take nothing but memories.