The first place I called home was, of course, where I grew up. My family moved in when I was six months old, so I have no recollection of where I lived before that.

That was the first, and only place my mom and dad ever owned. It was in rural southwest Virginia, and it was right up the hill from my paternal grandparents. They had given (or maybe sold, I’m not sure) my dad some land, and they bought a mobile home to put up there. But it was a three bedroom model, and there were the two of them plus three kids. My big sister graciously shared her room with me until I was about 6, and then they built on.

My dad did most of the work himself. He added on two more bedrooms and a den/dining room. He did a great job, but I’m not surprised. He was one of those guys that could do just about anything he set his mind to. He became a trucker before I was born and made it his career, but he had done all sorts of stuff before that. And the things he hadn’t done just seemed to come to him naturally anyway.

The place where we lived was pretty peaceful. It was on a hill at the end of a dead-end non-state maintained road. We had a big front yard, and nothing but mountains behind us. When I was young, most of the neighbors were awesome. I spent a lot of time at my mamaw’s, and I sometimes went to my cousin’s house to visit his wife (she was a sweetheart, but I never cared much for him). One of the neighbors at the other end of the road had an above-ground pool, and they invited me down to swim in the summers. The ones across the road from them had two girls who were a little younger than me, and I went down and played with them often.

Things have changed in that little hollow over the years. The neighbors with the pool and the kids moved. Not far, but far enough not to be my neighbors any more. There have been a few move-ins and move-outs since then, but one place is now abandoned and the other is now home to some really major snobs. My cousin’s wife died in a car crash. My mamaw also passed on, and they rented her place out for a while and eventually sold it to friends of my dad. They were nice, but they bought another place a few years ago and gave that one to their daughter. And she has let it go way downhill. It’s practically uninhabitable now, but she still lives there.

My dad passed away three years ago. So now it’s just Mom up there on the hill. At least it’s still pretty peaceful up there. She doesn’t have much to do with the neighbors, just keeps to herself and has friends over every now and then. I don’t get up there much because of life and gas prices, my sister lives 4 hours away but gets up there when she can, and my brother doesn’t live too far off from her. He sees her the most of any of us, but he has a busy life too.

So there’s my first home post. Hope I didn’t bore you to death with it. Things will get more interesting with the next couple, so stay tuned.