With some years on me and armed with a camera, I see my childhood home in a whole new light. My parents were away, they have a place in Nova Scotia, Canada. So, the girls and I went down to visit with the cat. We took some pasta I had pre-made in the fridge and the makings for a salad. We took a couple of board games, though most important to them was walking the woods. Most important to me is the joy I see in my girls walking in my own footsteps. Taking off shoes and walking in bare feet along mossy paths. Playing Yahtzee at my mother’s kitchen table. Feeding the fish in the pond Japanese beetles. Reading the books I read to my brother. We lived there last summer when I left my husband, so to them, my mother’s home is almost as comfortable as their own. My memories will become their memories. The smells of my mother’s woodstove, the damp basement, the old wood, is becoming as familiar to them as it is to me. When I told the girls in a random conversation that some children fly in airplanes because that is the only way they see their Grandparents, maybe once a year, they were astounded. We live in a small town. My grandparents live next door. My father five minutes, my sister ten minutes, my mother twenty minutes away. A visit is as easy as hopping in the car….and then we are there, surrounded by the green and the smells and comforts of home.