Ohio is Home

I have a journal that poses a daily question. Today's question seemed so simple:
Where do you live?

I answered with my physical address. But then I thought about the metaphysical answers; not just where I live, but what home means to me.

I've lived a lot of places. I've touched on four borders of the United States: California, Florida, New Jersey, and Alaska. But when it came time to choose a place to settle down and raise my kids, I knew I wanted to move back to Ohio where I'd grown up. In fact, I live around the corner from my old house.

One big reason that I wanted to raise them in Ohio is because this is where my family is. I want my kids to grow up with their grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and all extended family. I want them to know where they fit into their family and their community. I want them to know the four seasons, and engage in all the same childhood activities that I felt privileged to enjoy. They can walk through woods, play in creeks, ride horses, throw snowballs, go sledding, make tree forts, jump in piles of leaves, pick pumpkins in the fall, and run through sprinklers all summer.

I want to raise them where I was raised. I want to know that it's safe for them to have lemonade stands in the front yard. I want them to have as good a childhood as I had. Maybe one day they'll choose to raise their kids here, too.