The House That Built Me
I know they say you can't go home again {True}
I just had to come back one last time
Ma'am, I know you don't know me from Adam
But these hand prints {hand print & footprint - labeled "Megan 1987"} on the front steps are mine
Up those stairs in that little back bedroom
Is where i did my homework and I learned to play guitar {piano close enough}
And I bet you didn't know under that live oak
My favorite dog {Rose} is buried in the yard
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out there it's like I'm someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in, I swear I'll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
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From "Better Homes & Gardens" magazine {True}
Plans were drawn and concrete poured
And nail by nail and board by board
Daddy gave life to mama's dream {True}
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I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out there it's like I'm someone else
I thought that maybe I could find myself
If I could just come in I swear I'll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
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You leave home, you move on
And you do the best you can
I got lost in this whole world
And forgot who I am
I thought if I could touch this place or feel it
This brokenness inside me might start healing
Out here it's like I'm someone else
Thought maybe I could find myself
If I could walk around, I swear I'll leave
Won't take nothing but a memory
From the house that built me
- - Miranda Lambert
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The first time I heard this song {& pretty much every time since} I tear up. It reminds me of my childhood & every good memory associated with that glorious house I grew up in. My first memory is watching my mom hang wallpaper [all 250 rolls of it].
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The front walk was lined in a variety of beautiful rose bushes.
In front of those rose bushes is where we played a little game we called "statues." We would strike a pose & held very still while cars pass us by.
The backyard was huge & allowed for my imagination to run wild. I lived back there.
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Orange trees, Grapefruit trees, Tangerine trees, Lime trees, Peach trees, Plum trees, Apple trees, Lemon trees, Apricot trees.
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All sorts of veggies in the gardens.
There was even a corn field at one point. And do you spot that mound of "dirt" in the far back corner...manure...we all used to play in it.
Saturday morning usually meant picking up a front yard full of toilet paper.
How could I have had anything but a wonderful childhood with this house as my playground. What a wonderful beginning to my life. So why does my ♥ ache when I think of this house? I guess it's just aching for something it can no longer have. 
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