I've often wondered why I love Savannah so much. While driving to Savannah for an extended stay with my parents I realized what it is that I love so much--it's home. I call it home. Always have. Even though I've only technically lived in the city limits of the Hostess City five years sporatically in my life. Savannah is still home. It is where I am from.
Growing up, most of our family was in Savannah. Mom & Dad grew up here. Leigh and I were born here. (FYI: If you are born in Savannah, you are "from" Savannah. If you were not born here but moved here and lived her all your life you are not "from" Savannah, you live in Savannah. The only exception to this rule could be Paula Deen. Possibly.) I guess we moved so much growing up that "home" became a relative term. I always considered Savannah home because our family was so transient. When I come to visit, I say, "I'm going home this weekend." And I don't consider our Atlanta suburb home. Cumming is merely where I live.
I think this upsets my husband because we pay a mortgage for a house that I don't consider home. And it's not really the house that I don't consider--it is the town, the area. I think that certain people are born with salt water in their blood, sand between their toes, and a high tolerance for sweet tea, pecan pie, and visitin' for an afternoon. That's me.
Mostly, though, I think Savannah is home because I associate Savannah with my Mom and Dad. And where ever they are, so will be my heart. I know it's cliche..."home is where your heart is", but I guess I always knew (and still know) that no matter what...I am always safe here.
Home.
In Savannah, Georgia.
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