Isn't it true that you don't really appreciate a place until you've left it?

I miss this ol' drive way.

I've walked down it, ran up it, learned to ride my bike on it, harrowed the big green pasture next to it and shoveled feet of snow off the top of it, scrapped up my knees on its gravel and chased escaped cows along its fence line. 

Funny, the things you miss when they're suddenly absent from your life.
   
     
     “When the fiddle had stopped singing Laura called out softly, 'What are days of auld lang syne, Pa?'  
     'They are the days of a long time ago, Laura,' Pa said. 'Go to sleep, now.'   
     But Laura lay awake a little while, listening to Pa's fiddle softly playing and to the lonely sound of the wind in the Big Woods…  
     She was glad that the cozy house, and Pa and Ma and the firelight and the music, were now. They could not be forgotten, she thought, because now is now. It can never be a long time ago.”   
 ― Laura Ingalls Wilder