Have you ever walked through your childhood home?

I have.  I had my husband pull the car over so I could stop to knock on the door.

Let me back track a bit...

My husband and I grew up in the same little beach town, so when we go back "home", it really is home to both of us.  His parents still live there and my dad still lives there.  Our friends' parents still live there too.  It's a town where usually everyone knows your name...kinda like Cheers, but not a bar.

Just about every time we make that trip over to the beach, I almost always ask my husband if we can go by my old home.  So we do.  It's the same every trip, I narrate who used to live where {usually close neighbors and kids from grade school or HS} and then just as we get to my house, I ask him to slow down.  And then I say, "I really wish I could see what it looks like inside."

The only difference between this story and all the others is that I actually did ask to go inside.  When my husband pulled the car over, I hopped out and asked him if he wanted to come.  He had zero interest in going inside and not because I don't think he would have appreciated it, I think he was just weirded out by it.  Heart pounding and flying solo, I walked up to the front door and knocked.

Okay, wait, let me just stop here.  I was totally unsure of what I was asking.  I mean, it is a little weird to ask someone you don't know to walk into their house and look around.  I get it.  Plus, I could've been a crazy escapee from the local jail.

When a woman answered the door, I hesitated for a second, then told her my story.  She smiled at me and then opened the door up for me to come inside.  It was definitely strange being in the house because everything was different.  Walls were knocked down, spaces enclosed, and carpeting ripped out.  But, even with everything looking so different, it still kind of felt the same.

The family was very kind and open to small chit-chat.  We talked about all their remodeling and some of our old neighbors.  I asked to look outside and everything looked the same...the pool, the yard, the canal, the houses on the other side of the canal.  That was the only time I got a little choked up.  I think just because so many birthday parties, pool parties, and conversations about boys took place out there.  Good memories.

I didn't ask to tour the whole house because I felt that was a little too intrusive.  So after about fifteen minutes I thanked them and said good-bye.

I don't think I stopped talking about it the whole car ride back to my husband's parent's house.  I was a total chatterbox.  It really was a neat experience laced with a little emotion.  It's one of those moments in life where you cherish every second, then store it away somewhere to remember for a long time.

So how about you?  Have you ever wished you could see your old childhood home?  Have you ever walked through it?  I'd love to hear your stories too.

xo,
jen