Home is where the weird is

Last week I went to Salt Lake City to visit my family and friends for a few days. I stayed in my parents home for the first time since getting married five years ago. May I just say it was uber strange. I lived in this same house from the time I was born and have been back there plenty for dinners, visits, etc, but this was the first time that I slept in my old bedroom, in my old bed. Some things have changed, but my glow in the dark stars are still on the ceiling where I placed them and my large stuffed toy Robert the Rabbit was still at my side as I got into bed. The first night there I went out with a friend, so I got home late, after my parents had already gone to bed and let me tell you creeping up the stairs to my bedroom, trying to avoid the creeky spots on the floor brought a flood of memories back to me, all the late night dates I would come home from. I felt like I was an amnesiac. I believe I lived there, if nothing else because this nice man and woman are telling me I did, but I can't quite comprehend that I really lived there for 23 years, however as I maneuvered around the house things came back to me by instinct - oh, yeah, this is where I hang my washcloth, this is the way I lay in this bed, this is the view from the window. Freaked me out, but by the end of the couple of days staying there, I was just a little bit sad to leave good ol' 331 H street.