Home to me is the place where I grew up. My memories always take me back to the fun times of my child hood, of the innocent curiosity of a child.

Home to me is where my roots are, the life that shaped me into who I am. The freedom living on a farm gave me to explore the woods that surrounded the farm.

Home to me is learning to be responsible for what you do and be proud of it. Of doing something and doing it right the first time.

Home is the responsibility of sharing the chores and learning to work together as a team

Home was a feather bed I slept on in the winter time because you kind of sunk into it and stayed warm

Home was climbing trees, walking in the woods or across the field.

Home was the smell of ground freshly turned with a plow and walking barefoot in the furrows when my uncles were plowing the land with a mule

Home was family gatherings on Sunday or a fish fry down at my grandads pond

Home is happy memories of play and work with my brother and sister and cousins

Home is remembering how cute baby animals are and how mad momma gets if you make one holler

Home was going in the woods to find a Christmas tree and bringing it home, we always got a holly tree with red berries

The home I use to know belongs to someone else now and when I go by there its not the same. So much has changed over the years But still there is a spot that makes me remember, an old live oak, or maybe a tree or bush that we planted, a special place that we used to play But no matter how many changes are made to the home place, my memories are unchanged. My parents have another house now and its nice but I never really had any roots there so its not home.

My home now is where I live with new memories