Now it is a memory long since past. It was a tobacco farm I grew up on in southern Ohio that was in my family for over 200 yrs. It was payment for my 5X grandfather's service in the revolutionary war. I was always told it would go to me someday. Someday came and went ... and I live 2000 miles away now. I was not informed of my family members death for over 8 months. With no will and no one to contest it, it was easy for his wife to disperse of his estate. With that my "home" was sold and all the history that went with it.
Pic of the barn my great grandfather built around 1905 that still stands. The house that his grandfather built around 1840 was burned down by an arsonist 2 yrs ago.
I have had a few places I called home during my life. My childhood home was the house I grew up in from the age of 4 till I was 11. Then the apartment we lived in during my teen years from age 11+ till 20. Our 1st owned apartment as a married couple for 12 years. The current home is the house I've been living in for the past 22 years.
When I am visiting the country where my family are from I have a really unusual feeling of being "home" and wanting to stay. Maybe one day I will stay and not return.
