There's no place like home

I've been reflecting on this statement a lot today. For the most part I think this statement has a warm meaning, like when you're just so appreciative for home. And of course, I am. I've just always been so conflicted about home. Not the house I was brought up living in and most definitely not my family, but the place in general. I think I've mentioned it before but it always takes me LEAVING Virginia to actually appreciate it and be proud of coming from here. I've always struggled with an answer when people asked me where I am from. I did most of my growing up in Virginia, but I was born in Kansas and then moved to Ohio, Vermont, New Jersey and Maryland before coming to the Old Dominion. (We actually only lived in Maryland for about four months - and we were living with my grandparents and uncle in a small townhouse while my dad looked for a job.) I never really felt like I was "from" any of those states either. Usually I said answered "all over." When I explained about moving from state to state, people always assumed we were a military family (we are not).

I don't really understand why I struggled with this for so long. Now, living in New York City, I'm very grateful to be from Virginia - this area is so incredibly beautiful. I loved living in London, I loved living in Wilmington and I love living in New York. While living in those places, though, when I said I was going home I meant Virginia. And there really is no place like the Shenandoah Valley of Virginia. It's great to be able to come back home, even if just for a visit - and especially coming from a big city. I've had a great time recharging my batteries these past few days and am looking forward to the ones I have coming up too!

So all of this kind of came up today when I decided to go for a drive. I went up to the mountain. Well, I went up to the camp, Caroline Furnace. See, my dad was a camp director for my entire childhood up until I was around 16 years old - one camp in New Jersey and one here in Virginia. I will swear because of that, I had the best childhood in the world. (One of my roommates is also a camp director's daughter. There's definitely a bond between all camp directors kids - it's an incredible way to grow up.) When my dad left the camp I was completely devastated. That place really, really, really felt like home to me. It kind of felt like I was losing part of my identity at that time. I now understand my dad having to leave. I've got nothing but great memories... well, great memories and loads of friends whom I really cherish. Some of the people I met there are still my closest friends and I even got a big brother who has been a part of my life since I was about 10.

Last fall there was a staff reunion I got to go to. Some of those counselors I hadn't seen in 18 or 19 years and I couldn't stop smiling the whole time I was there. All of the counselors there had a huge, HUGE influence on my life and I wouldn't be who I am now without them. (And if any of you are reading this, I love you and am so grateful for growing up around you!! Thanks for putting up with PK's kids, aka the "staff brats" haha.) So while I'm feeling sentimental...

My childhood home

First summer at CFLC. I'm 8 years old.

My brother and me at the reunion

KB and me at a campfire circa 1999. We'd already been friends for 5 years & she's still one of my closest friends

Look at what one little car ride did today! It was great to make the drive by. Wish I could have parked and walked around again but just seeing the place warmed my heart. I could write volumes about that place and my memories but don't worry, I won't do that here. Just wanted to share a little bit!