Photo: A short gravel driveway leads to a one-car garage attached to a small, cream-colored house This week, John and I went out to dinner with his parents, and his mom asked me out of all the houses I had lived in as an adult (well, she didn't say, "as an adult," but I just assumed that), which was my favorite. I gave her an answer, then agonized the rest of the evening that somehow my opinion was wrong (not for anything that anyone said; just because my middle-aged, menopausal mind can't seem to turn off.) 😆The truth is, I have liked all of the homes we have lived in, for various reasons. The home I gave as my answer was the smallest, oldest, least expensive, had only one bathroom for all seven of us, and was just one field away from the train tracks. It was also the home where birds made a nest in my hanging fuchsias, my youngest daughter splashed in mud puddles, my youngest son's pumpkin that he planted in kindergarten grew to take over our garden, and a...
Living life with a thankful heart