home is no longer my home

I started to title this post "home sweet home" but then I couldn't.

I'm sitting in the office at my Dad's house in Colorado, on a crisp, beautiful Summer Sunday morning, and having an absolutely smashing time visiting my family this weekend. Friday night we went to a Rockies game and watched our hometeam soundly defeat the Cubs. We played all day yesterday at our favorite Denver summer spot, Water World, and made the two and a half hour trek back to Yuma for dinner at my favorite mexican restaurant. After dinner we caught up with my favorite Yuma aunt, uncle and cousins, and chatted into the night/held a quick make-shift early birthday with my sweet mama.

After the day ended, I fell asleep next to my sister in a room that is not my own. There's been a little bit of shuffling around in the Campbell house, and my sister Kirsten now resides in what was my room (for one summer while I lived in this house after college). This change is certainly no problem for me at all because she's an almost 18 year old girl who needs her space and I'm glad she can use the room that I might have maybe stayed in once a year for the rest of my life.

What this change does represent, however, is how I've grown up and replaced my thoughts of home with a different place. While I will always say that Yuma is my home, ie: flying HOME for the weekend; going HOME for Christmas; as I began to title this blog "home sweet home," I realized that Yuma is not my HOME. My home is the little brick house in Nashville where Trevor will be waiting with open arms when I fly HOME on Monday.

My family will always represent my home of the past. One that I will cherish, and hope to visit often. But Trevor represents my home, both now and always, and I can't imagine it any other way.