I'm 54 years old, and yet, my favorite place in the world is my parents' house. It is safe. Full of love. Memories. Unconditional love.
My Pops is 82. When I can get to Atlanta, I sleep in an old bed in the basement that has the quilts on it that I slept under when I was a kid. He gets excited when I go there. He gets to put clean sheets and towels out. And we get to go eat barbecue together and talk about old times.
Pictures of my grandparents adorn the walls. Pictures of my parents in their younger years are all over. Mom has been gone for 6 years, and nothing has changed. It is still my home. Pops has preserved it.
I realize now that a big part of my job as father and head of the household is to provide that safe place for my kids and grandkids.
An anchor. Where holidays are celebrated. Where engagement parties are held. Where weddings are held. Where you can come after your worst day and feel good, warm and cuddled.
I am blessed to have a safe place in Atlanta. I am saddened to think that one day it won't be there anymore.
But, I am blessed with the opportunity to provide that for my family in Texas.
I wish everyone had such a place.