Coming Home

 This is the house I grew up in.  My best friend lived around the corner, three houses down.  Spent 20 years in this house, and another 5 years living next door to it.  This house has been in my family for 4 generations.  Or is it 5?  I'm not sure.

When we told my Dad we were moving to Idaho, he took it pretty well.  Maybe too well?  I was genuinely taken aback by how well he took it.  Two weeks later, he admitted that every time he thought about it, he bawled.  I did too.  Moving is hard.  Leaving home is hard.  Leaving friends and family, comforts, jobs, places...all hard.  Its been almost 2 1/2 months and its still...hard.  All.the.time.  And super lonely.
On July 9, 2013, my Dad and sister arrived in Twin Falls.  About a week earlier, all their stuff arrived.  4 generations of...stuff.  My Dad is the bravest guy I know.  He's been through more than most and always seems to come out on top (or he's been faking it pretty good, which is also sort of awesome).  My dad didn't take too long to decide that if his only grandkids were moving to Idaho, he was moving too.  So along with some serious help, he sold his house, packed up 4 generations of stuff, and moved to Idaho.

My kiddos must be the luckiest little things ever.  They have all their grandparents living in the same town.  Two of them have taken us into their home, with all the love and support you could imagine.  And the other packed up his life and followed us, just to spend whatever time he does have left with them.