Home again, Home again, Jiggity Jog

It feels nice to be home again, although every time I come home it feels a bit less like home. My room doesn't have much of my stuff left anymore. Most of the stuff in here now is my mom's. She's moved a lot of quilting stuff into my room since I was last home. The only things left that are mine are some stuffed animals, a few posters, my old nightstand, and some stuff in the closet. If I took down the last of my stuff one would not even be able to tell that a girl once lived in the room. It looks more and more like what it is now. A guest room. Even the drive down my street was a bit different. There used to be an old sign that said 'Via Vista' in metal letters. Ever since I've lived here though it has said 'is a.' Now it doesn't even say that. It is large and arched over the road so I guess some highschoolers finally got around to climbing it to remove the remaining letters. I wonder if anyone else feels like a guest in their own home? I shouldn't think too highly of myself though, my mom didn't clean before I came, which means I'm not too much of a guest!

I wonder if there will ever be a time when I will not be able to call my parents' place home. It's much more likely to happen once I stop moving every year! Maybe once I settle down in Sweden that will feel like home. I hope so.