The House That Built Me
For the past 6 years, I’ve driven this route that most would consider quite un-scenic to visit with my parents. Thanksgiving, Christmas, etc. Each 3 hour drive, I see these broken down barns most people probably wouldn’t notice still stand. Each 3 hour drive, I blast music and sing at the top of my lungs taking glances at these old structures. Each 3 hour drive, I think about how my life sometimes feels like one of them, all that I have overcome in my life, all that I have to show, all the potential I still have. Once again making that 3 hour drive this past week, I finally stopped to photograph all these houses that make me think about life. I was listening to Miranda Lambert’s song: The House That Built Me. The lyrics are as follows in captions:
I know they say, you can’t go home again
I just had to come back one last time
M’am I know you don’t know me from Adam
but these hand prints on the front steps are mine
Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where I did my homework and learned to play guitar
I bet you didn’t know
Under that live oak
Under that live oak
My favorite dog is buried in the yard
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This broken-ness inside me my start healing
Out here its like I’m someone else
thought that maybe i could find myself
if i could just come in i swear ill leave,
won’t take nothing but a memory
from the house that built me
Wish all the readers safe travels home, happy thanksgiving and give your loved ones a big hug!
