Have you heard Miranda Lambert's song "The House That Built Me"? (If you haven't, watch it below.) I relate to this song so much, there is a deep part of me that longs to return to the house in which I grew up. It isn't as simple as visiting my parents, we moved when I was twelve. There is something in me that longs to see and touch the house where I was a child. To sit in the kitchen and remember the memories. To see if our treehouse is still standing. To search out old friends.
I once saw a show on TV when Christina Aguilera visited the house where she grew up. A stranger was living there, a nice stranger who let her into the house. Ever since then I've had this fantasy that I would go to the house that we lived in and knock on the door. There would a lady home who was from the south and she would give us sweet tea and show us around. I bet the living room would no longer be coral and my bedroom wouldn't be a sunny shade of yellow, but it would still be my house.
I need to start planning a trip for me and Pop Rocks to go visit. Its not that I need to take such a trip to figure out who I am or anything, it just a longing inside me.
Have you ever experienced such a longing?