We just got home from Thanksgiving at my parents' place, in southern Pennsylvania.  ("But it's not Thanksgiving there, right?" "Yes, that's right.  But they're retired.  Every weekend is a long weekend for them.  The issue is when we have a long weekend.")

It's still funny to me.  They moved back to Lancaster County 2.5 years ago, after being away for 25 years; we moved when I was 12.  So it's home, but it's the home I don't really know how to get around in (I never drove there), and the home I never had any adult responsibilities in.  I have no idea how far it is from the middle school to where I grew up (it was a long time on the bus).

I wish it were an easier drive there (the wonderful roly-poly Pennsylvania hills, which make my soul sing in a way almost nothing else does, also prevent convenient north-south roads, though it must be said that Google thinks my little detours added a full 48 minutes to what is already a very long day's drive), but it's just a joy visiting there. 

It's also great that my parents are much more relaxed post-retirement than pre-.  There are all kinds of standard health issues (my dad is about to become guy-in-his-60s-number-23582509121-who-gets-new-knees), but all told, I think they're happier than they have been in years, which is good news indeed.

So I am thankful.