The Place We Call Home

Each summer, I have looked forward to “going home”… and by that I mean going back to Utah—home to my mom, my brother and sister and the same house that I grew up in. For many summers, I have gone to Utah with the kids—sometimes under the guise of a few “extras” like soccer camp or a BYU Football game. Picnics in Provo Canyon, hiking to Timpanogos Caves, visiting Temple Square, swimming at the Scera Pool—these are our Utah summer traditions!! I love the Wasatch Mountains—they are truly remarkable to those of us who have moved far away to areas where our version of “mountains” are green rolling hills. I took the kids to a BYU Soccer game last night and looked up to see the sun setting on “Y” mountain, blue sky, pink clouds, rocky mountains—it was a postcard moment. I also looked around and saw all of these

BYU students who now look like my children!

I always look forward to reconnecting with old friends when I come to Utah; meeting their kids, catching up, and laughing about our Orem HS days. I loved high school, but I am glad that life doesn’t make us repeat it! (It’s the same feeling I have when I think about carrying around a diaper bag and stroller again…) Now many of our friends are “Utah transplants” from California, Washington, Chile, and Ohio—I love knowing that I can see them again—Utah is such a cosmopolitan place!

I was filling out some paperwork the other day that asked for my “Hometown”. So I starting thinking...a “hometown?” Hmmm. Does anybody have a “hometown” anymore? What is a hometown anyway—is it the place where you were born? Or is it the place where you lived most of your life? I wonder what “hometown” my kids will put on their college applications? I was reading that the average American will change jobs 8 times during their career lifetime and for our family this has been true—we’ve lived a few different places—so defining “hometown” is a bit of a dilemma for me.

But something strange happened during my visit to Utah this summer. A little bit of an epiphany, maybe. Usually, I don’t really miss Ohio—in fact, I usually don’t think much about it while I am gone. But this year, I found myself missing “home”—my Ohio home! Go figure that! First, I miss my boys, Scott, Zach, and Josh (who will be in an out of Utah at various times this summer) and our little dog Canela. I miss my house and the green trees and those Ohio rolling green hills! Call me crazy, but I even miss the humidity of Ohio—lotion has become my new best Utah friend. I miss my wonderful Canton Ward and the “family feeling” of going to church. I miss my friends, my routine, I miss corn fields and tractors, no traffic—it’s all been kind of interesting. So maybe I AM changing. I believe that I may need to re-think this idea of “going home”. Maybe I am home when I’m with my family and doing my thing—that’s what feels like “home”.

I don’t think things will really change--I still plan to visit and do all of those things that make coming out here special, but “going home” will be thousands of miles away! I loved growing up in Utah, it was a good place to be, but I am thinking that my home for now is Ohio. And Utah? It will be my “home away from home”. Problem solved...I think I may a new answer for my "hometown"questions...

(P.S. One final thought and for the record, some things will never change. I love Ohio, but I don’t think I will ever wear the Ohio State Buckeye Red--I could be stoned for saying this in Ohio!—--But once a Cougar, always a Cougar.)