Where I'm From

On my way home this dark and dreary evening I was listening to the radio to keep myself company as I usually do. Working far from home has advantages and disadvantages and sometimes, they are one in the same. I really enjoy taking the hour plus drive to relax in the car and decompress. I am an over thinker and driving by myself as much as I do allows me to indulge in that pastime. Most of the time I think about what's going on in my life at present, what my goals are for the future, how my relationships are going, and very occasionally what I am going to cook for dinner. The disadvantage of being such an over thinker is that my thoughts sometimes turn down a sad and uncomfy path and I have a whole lot of time to dwell in those prickly thoughts. This evening was almost one of those occasions.

A song came on the radio that I often listen to and maybe you've heard it too. It's that country song "Where I'm From". He is telling a man on a plane about where he's from and paints the picture of a small country town. Well anyway if you don't know what I am talking about it doesn't really matter. The point is, it got me thinking about where I am from. I've never really felt like I was FROM anywhere. I don't have a home town that I know and remember and love. My years growing up were spent a few years here and a few years there. Military kids know what I'm talking about. My friends all either grew up here or grew up in another state and they go "home" for holidays. Well I sure didn't grow up here, but my parent's house is not really home either. My friends can't wait to visit with their friends and family "back home". I don't have a "back home" and sometimes it get a little depressing. But tonight I realized something. I am from somewhere. It's a place I know so well I could describe it to a blind man. I know the smells, the sounds, and everyone's name.

I am from a dusty old barn with red and white paint.
Where the horses are fed precisely at 8,
and where stalls are mucked every morning.
Where barn aisles are swept, and buckets are scrubbed.
Tack is clean and greys like the mud.
Where horse show moms are your biggest fans,
and losing your horse is like losing your hand
It may sound silly to some, but that is where I am from.

It may sound silly but that really IS where I am from. My horses are my dearest friends. We scratch each others backs, give each other hugs, and get on each others nerves. They depend on me, but I desperately depend on them to keep my sanity. Ok this may really be silly but when I am watching a movie where someone is riding a horse, and they do it in slow motion, and it's all dramatic, I feel homesick and sometimes will find myself tearing up. I can't ever remember feeling homesick in a barn. The smell of a barn or horses makes me feel safe and happy, even if I am thinking about how atrocious the stalls may be. I know you may be thinking "is she serious?...a barn???", but yes, I am. The closest thing to a hometown I know is a barn. For me, home is where the barn is.