But, sometimes I can't help feeling some disappointment.
Your bedroom may now be a sewing room or an office...
Your favorite restaurant has closed...
or you might recognize someone in the grocery store...and they walk right past you...
Each time I visit I realize more and more that home isn't a building.
Home is my family.
Home is holding hands around the dinner table.
Home is a familiar face...
A hug, a laugh, a well-worn story
even a phone call.
I love my family, my home.
Your family loves having you home.
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