Down a long highway, past an old wooden bridge in a little town is home.  It’s a place I know very well yet explore like a child every time I’m there.

We are on the road, my friends, for a weekend away.  Up to North Texas, the land of my childhood.  The places where I played hide and seek.  Climbed trees.  Searched for rocks with my dad.  Watched airplanes with my Papa.  Lived.

The memories come flooding back when I go home.  The same memories that I hope for for my children.