Sep 2, 2017

There was no formal dining table, just a long wooden one that might have been rough if it weren’t so smooth from all the years of daily use and conversation. Upstairs the twin rooms on either side of the staircase were lined with bunk beds, the shelves of bedtime stories nestled into a corner out in the hall. The kitchen never was quite clean as it always seemed to be transitioning from one meal to another, except at bedtime when the counters lay peaceful and still. But perhaps the best thing of all was the great backyard with a sturdy old tree to climb, two swings, and enough open space to run and run until all the stress or worry or crankiness fell away and all that was left was the fresh air in your hair and hands and face.