This is a pictures I pulled off Google Maps, of the house I grew up in.

 {If you click on it, you can read what all the red marking say.}

I lived in this house for 16 years, the longest I've lived anywhere.

Over Christmas, an old friend sent me a picture of this house decked out in Christmas lights, it made me cry.

I loved this house, I thought my parents were going to retire in this house.

I'm glad Ryan got to spend time in this house before my parents moved. I would have been sad if he had never gotten to see my childhood home.

In addition to the things I wrote on the picture, there are a few things you can't see by looking at the outside.

There's a curved banister that we used to slide down. It has long scratches all the way down from the buttons on our pants.

The upstairs bathroom had a permanent layer of hairspray on the counters, because that's where we'd all go to get ready for dances.

There used to be a deck in the backyard, along with a trampoline, that entertained lots of youth for many summers.

That house holds so many more stories than I have time or space to write.

Although I loved that house, after moving into a new one a few time over, I've learning I loved that feeling of home that was contained inside that house. That feeling of being safe, being wanted, being loved.

That feeling of home, has now been relocating and expanded to several addresses.

That saying,"Home is where the heart is," is so cliche, but true.

XOXO,

Holly & Co.