There’s No Place Like Home

They say “home is where the heart is” but what if you don’t know where that is? Then my friends, you end up searching until you end up in a small little town called Nottawa, in the glove-shaped state of Michigan. At least that’s what happens when you’re my father, Stanley (or Junior as he’s known in those parts). You end up back where your story began.

Will you find the happiness you’ve been so desperately seeking? Will coming “home” help you find your heart? I hope so. As much as I selfishly want my dad to stay, I know this is what he needs.

So here we are – Stanley, my sister Sarah, and me – heading East on 80 in his silver Prius. It’s day one on the road. The sun is trying to break through but the clouds continue to roll through; perfectly matching the melancholy mood. Growing up my family ALWAYS went on road trips. Oftentimes, to visit the very same place we’re headed – the lake house.

It’s the house my dad grew up in. It’s the house my grandfather built. It’s the house we visited as kids during the holidays. At one point, in what seems like a another lifetime, it was the place WE called home.