my first home

Day 27: Love/hate

I have a love/hate relationship with the place I grew up. It’s a typical rural Nebraska town–a handful of stoplights, lots of corn, not so many people.

As a kid, I couldn’t wait to leave. I never even considered going to college in Nebraska. I knew I wanted my world to be bigger. So I left.


I was gone for a long time. I came home for holidays to see my mom and dad, but I was perfectly content to stay at their house and hang out with them. I never felt the need to call up old classmates or see people.

When I was gone, I missed them. I never missed the town. I don’t like the town much, and I have my reasons for feeling like this. My parents are good people. The best people. Wonderful, generous, loving people. Some people don’t get that, and that’s on them.


Now that I live closer, I get home more often. I’ve spent more time in that tiny little town in the last 18 months than I did the 10 years prior to the move. I don’t like being there. It doesn’t feel right to me. I don’t fit there. I might not use the word hate, but someday when my parents move to the mountains, I’ll never go back. And that will be perfectly fine with me.


This is the road to my parents’ house. You can get there through town, but I take the back road. Driving on gravel reminds of home. I don’t like the town, but I love the place. The wide openness of it, the quiet, the smell of the country.

And, as if that wasn’t enough, I love this.

The love in this picture so completely overwhelms me. And that small town can’t touch this.

Home is where these people are. Period.

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8 thoughts on “my first home

  1. Wow Christine, such strong emotions so eloquently stated. It is obvious this came from the deepest part of your heart. Your family is so beautiful and their love radiates from this picture.

  2. I can well understand your feelings. I do not like the place I spent most of my growing up years in either and never want to ever live there again but going to spend time with family who lives there is wonderful. You have a beautiful family and those smiles depict much happiness. Hugs

  3. wow, i feel so similarly about my hometown. i don’t hate it, but it doesn’t feel good to go back there, and so i don’t go back as often as i should. and that gravel road? i grew up on a brown gravel road. (as kids, a friend once called it a dirt road and i got terribly offended. “it’s not a DIRT road, pshh! it’s GRAVEL.”)

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