I love music. I always seem to have a new “mix cd” in my car, although I do miss the 1990s mix tapes. One of my favorite songs lately is Miranda Lambert’s “The House That Built Me.” The song chronicles a young woman’s journey back to the house she grew up in.
This got me thinking.
I wonder who is living in my old house? What would it be like to revisit that place? The first house I lived in (that I remember) was built by my dad, and it has a special place in my heart. When I lived in that house, my dad was Superman and my mom protected me from the monsters underneath the bed. My best friends were Kid Sister and Barbie. I snacked on animal crackers and animal cookies. I didn’t worry about how many calories were in a glass of juice. To put it plainly…
Life was a little bit simpler.
So then I got to thinking, why can’t life still be this way? The answer is sadly simple–we grow up.
I will never be that child again, but I can still claim innocence in my adult life. I can still dream big. I can still ask my mom for advice. I can still enjoy some cookies and milk…without calorie counting and guilt.
I can return to The House That Built Me everyday.