home

134 Parker Street was my first home.
Sometime in early December of 1992, my parents brought me to this house, and I was home for the very first time. I was fresh and new then, a tiny, bald bundle of baby and light. We moved from this house a few months before my first birthday, so the closest thing I have to a memory from this house is recognizing it from a picture I've seen in a photo album of my parents, older brothers, and I on the small front porch. I did drive by it briefly a few summers ago, though, when I visited Maine with my parents and younger brothers.


27 Schoolhouse Lane is the first home I remember.
I had my first birthday on Schoolhouse Lane, complete with the traditional Greenhalgh family carousel cake. I often have a hard time sorting out which memories I have of this home are actually mine and which ones I think I remember because I've heard the stories told so many times. I've written about this before, in fact, but I've come up with a few more memories since then. I remember the grassy hill that separated our home from a wide expanse of woods. When it was windy outside, that hill was a prime kite flying spot. I remember the day a moose wandered into our front yard and put its front hooves up on our trampoline as though it were trying to climb on and squeeze in a quick jump before going back to doing whatever moose do. It was dinnertime, and we were eating soup. We had a large garden at this home, and my mom tells me I used to plop down by the peas and eat them straight off the plant. We moved from this home about six weeks after the birth of the triplets when I was just barely closer to my fifth birthday than my fourth


1407 Cayton Road was the home of my childhood.
I associate trees with this home. There were two pine trees in the back yard that were quite close together. We kids liked to play under and around them. There was an every larger tree on the side of the house. The branches started high up enough off of the ground that I could crawl under them as a small child and be completely hidden from the world. One year on Arbor Day, I got a tiny little sapling that we planted in the front yard. I don't think any of us expected it to amount to anything, but a few years ago, we drove by our Cayton home and were surprised to see a large, mature tree in the place where a tiny little twig with a few pine needles once stood.


1883 Farmhouse Way is where I stepped out of childhood.
It's the home of my teenage angst, which I'm sure my family would love to tell you about. It's the home where I had my graduation party, where I had my first kiss, and where I got accepted to college (not necessarily in that order). It's the home both of my older brothers departed from when they blazed the way to college and missions. It's the home I had to leave when it was my turn to make the trek to Provo. My parents and younger brothers still live here, so it's the place I visit at Christmastime. I call this home my Kentucky Home, because even though I don't live there anymore, it will always be home as long as my family is there.     


222 Tingey Hall was my first home away from my family.
My first memory of this home took place at nighttime after a long day of travel. We dropped off some of my belongings before heading to my aunt's house to spend the night. I remember stepping into the room that was to be mine that contained a desk that wasn't mine and a bed that wasn't mine and a closet that wasn't mine and blank walls that certainly weren't mine. And for the first time ever, another person's belongings were in the room that was to be mine. And as I shoved a few suitcases into a corner, I felt a sinking sense of fear and dread that this place would never feel like mine. Thankfully, my pessimistic premonition was incorrect—that room became just as much mine as any other room I'd had. And having roommates was actually kind of nice, I found. Sometimes it was (and still is, really) overwhelming for me to live with girls after growing up with all brothers, but it's a unique blessing that I appreciate over and over again when I can come home to a friend to talk to about girl things.


910 N 900 E #104 is where I am now.
It's the first home I've had on a numbered street, which feels more grown up for some reason. In a lot of ways, this home has shaped who I am today more than any other home. The places I grew up with my family laid a foundation for my life; they helped me discover who I am at the core. But this home is where I've had the experiences that have helped me become that person. This is the home where I've dealt with the hardest trials, where I've doubted myself the most, and where I've experienced the darkest of my days. But it's also the place that's refined me, that's taught me how to feel true joy, and that led to meeting some of the most important people in my life. I don't know how much longer this will be my home (according to signed contracts it will be at least a year), but I know that no matter how much longer I stay here or where I go after leaving it, I wouldn't trade my life in 104 for anything. This home helped me become confident. It helped my become closer to my Heavenly Father. It helped me become me.