I grew up… and I know childhood doesn’t come back the way you remember it.
And yet, something small takes me back. Not to the place… but to the feeling.
The house has changed. Different people, different voices. But inside me… it’s still there.
In the smell of the rain. In the sound of the door. In the way the light falls, just like it used to.
In small moments that appear out of nowhere. And that’s when I realize:
You never really lose the home you grew up in. It becomes a part of you. In the way you love. In the way you endure. In the way you keep going.
Because homes aren’t just walls. They are pieces of your story that stay with you forever.
