I love my home state.
And believe it or not, for most of my life I had plans to grow old here. Oh, I wanted to travel-but from the safety of coming back to my rocker and front porch. Maybe I've always been an old soul.
There are literally hundreds of reasons why I love the south-from my family being here, to fall colors, to the accent which I did not inherit, to the plethora of old trucks that can be seen on any given country afternoon drive.
I love the small towns and homemade jams; I love my family history that is woven throughout these hills. I love that everyone waves as they walk down the street and the beautiful old houses that are everywhere.
Like this-the log house I grew up in. Jon and I took a break from editing one day last week to visit this beautiful, dear old place. I lived there from my 2nd birthday until I was 15. All my childhood memories and dreams danced in this place.
The day we moved I literally sat in every single room and journaled my favorite memories from that specific room and cried; yeah, I'm sappy like that. I'm currently adding "buy my childhood home" to my dream list. {Note to self: add "inform Jon of pending future purchase" to "TO DO" list.}
So, dear Kentucky-I may or may not ever live here again, but I will not forget you. I will remember all the happiness of my youth and I am grateful for all the lessons I learned in your arms. So thanks for the good times.
We shall return.