Being Home

I love visiting my childhood home (and seeing family of course). Each time I notice new things about the house I was born in (not literally, folks). This Thanksgiving might have been one of the best. It went by so quickly, and I was home so briefly, but I feel that as I get older these trips are more meaningful. My mother and I chose ornaments from her collection for my own first tree. We also began to read through letters written by my parents to theirs in 1978, the year they moved to Paris. My mother was 26 then - my age now. All of the details of my trip made me sort of emotional, and made me fall in love with my family even more. Enjoy some vignettes from home!