I grew up on a small dairy farm in western North Dakota, and I still get terribly homesick from time to time. Even though I've spent more of my life away from there, it still has my heart. It's still my home. One of the hardest parts of growing older is wanting those comforts of the past, but coming to terms with the fact that they'll never again be as you remember them. It's the pull of nostalgia, I suppose, to miss being that carefree kid running around the farm and seeing childhood friends, to miss regularly seeing my aunts, uncles, and cousins. To miss talking with my grandparents, who have all passed away.