The House That Built Me

You never really know how much the home that you grew up in can mean to you until you move away, and someone new owns it. A place that you can never call home again, but made so many memories of your own in. These memories may be good or bad experiences, but each of these helped bring you to the person you are today. This is not only the house that built me, but the land, church and area that I grew up in, where I left to many memories behind.

This is truly the house that built me.

Looking at this picture you see a old nasty barn, I see the barn that I spent many nights stripping tobacco. The place where I learned to drive a tractor, ride a horse and ran away to whenever I was mad.
You see only a fence, I see it as a the first place that I ever shot a shotgun. It was Christmas, and so cold but I'll never forget how excited I was to have my very own shotgun.

You may see beautiful land; I see the driveway where I crashed my bike one to many times, where a bee flew up my sisters nose, and the land that I went hunting on a blue million times.

The yard that I had to run down numerous times because I was late for the bus, where I played so many games of flash light tag, and kick the can.
The hill that I rolled down a million times, the tree house that not only was a tree house but a pirate ship and war zone.

Seriously, takes my breath away

You see an old barn; I see the creek bottoms that I walked down daily.

The first church that I ever called home.
You see a church that is falling down; I see the church where I bent down on my knees and asked the Lord to save my soul.

This is forever, my home.