The couch where Penny chewed a cushion, the bathroom cabinet scratches a reminder of our beloved Ebby. The first and only place we have ever owned. Never enough storage space. No hall closet and a one car garage. Quiet neighbors with polite kids to the south, noisy neighbors with unruly kids and unruly gargabr to the northeast. A great privacy-fenced backyard for my boys to play in, which is an unbelievable asset in this neighborhood. I get frustrated with our location on a regular basis. I want more yet I want less. But this is home.
The only home my babies have known. Memories fill the modest rooms, tears, laughter, yelling, silence. All this is home, but all of this is not home either. Someday I will be welcomed home.