You Can Go Home Again

When I visit my dad, it takes me approximately five minutes to shift into "childhood" mode.

I grew up in Missouri, so the house my parents built in Arkansas was not my childhood home.  But there is still something about visiting there that makes me want to be a tiny bit lazy and pretend I don't have any responsibilities for a few days, especially if Scott is not with me.  Even if I work most of the time and have meetings at my alma mater that is in town.

From the moment I picked up my rental car at the Little Rock airport last week, the vacation was "on."  The radio was already tuned to an 80s station, so the soundtrack of REO Speedwagon, Def Leppard and Madonna immediately put me in junior high and high school mode.

When I got to the house, my dad had fired up the grill to make steaks (one of my favorite things for him to make).

The K-cup carousel on their kitchen counter was stocked with decaf - something that apparently only happens when I come around. Yes, I'm feeling spoiled already. 


And as if it couldn't any better, a pile of quilts in my room, since I always seem to be cold.


In the morning, I felt like Lady Mary, being able to lounge in bed, reading and sipping coffee until I felt like getting up.  Although, being an early riser, I did have to tiptoe out to the kitchen and quietly brew my own coffee.

As much as I enjoy these visits, there is nothing better than getting home to Scott - who makes me feel even more spoiled and loved.  I am one lucky girl.