There's a few places that feel like home to me - besides my own of course. One of those places is Pburg, Kansas - a little town near Nebraska. I never lived there, but I have a lot of good memories of visiting that place. A lot of those memories involve playing with my cousins out on a farm or upstairs in the old hotel. I was surrounded by so many adults that I knew loved me.
Some of my Pburg memories are sad though. Like when my mom took my brother and me up there a couple of weeks one summer to tell my Papaw good-bye. Those two weeks were such a gift to me. Not only did I get to spend some extra time with Papaw before he went Home, but I also had a cousin who I could talk things over and sort through all the emotions that come along with cancer. Despite the preparation, I was shocked a month later when my whole family returned for Papaw's funeral. Through all that though, Pburg still feels like a good, safe place. Maybe it's because I learned a few things about life and God and family when I lost someone close to me for the first time.
I usually hear old family stories when I visit Pburg. Like when my mom's cousin came to visit this time. Or I learn some new trivia- like where the house is located that my dad rented a room when he was engaged to my mom.
I feel blessed that I get to visit and bring my boys up there. I am happy that they are getting to know my grandma, aunts, uncles, and cousins (and cousins' kids, etc.).
Here's a few pictures of our time a couple of weeks ago. I say "a few" because these are just a small sampling of all the pictures I took.