Same Old Song

I've been back from ALA Midwinter for three weeks and I still haven't recovered from it yet.  It didn't help that I was home for less than 24 hours before someone made an offer on our old house and my parents accepted it.  I've spent the last few weeks packing furiously and grieving quietly.  We've been in the new house for three months, but I still think of the old house as home.  I keep telling myself it's just a house (am I the only one who is reminded of the song from the "Doonesbury" musical?).  It's just brick and mortar and wood.  It's where I spent hours in the bathtub playing with my Fisher Price houseboat.  It's where I got my first kiss.  It's where I learned about love, loss, and death.  It was home.