The House i Was Raised In

Not big. Not tiny. 

Humble. simple. no apparent beauty that would cause double takes to anyone passing by, but just the sight of this little wooden house on the bend makes my heart squeeze

I was born and raised in this place. between these fields, on this winding street in the best neighborhood of our little town.

I don't know if i'll ever live at home again. 

maybe for a few weeks here or there on holidays or to work for a month in between semesters.

One of the million reasons why i'm thankful that i stayed home from school the spring semester was that i got to have a few extra months in this little house of ours. I can't explain how thankful i am for the hours and seeming lifetimes of play and joy and love i had there. I don't really want to try, either. I'd only blunder its piety. 

Thank you, dad for building this place for us. 

Thank you, mom for filling it with love.