The house

My lastborn turned 18 today. Three grown ups grew up in this house where I sit on a Friday night with my two dachshunds. The first two arrived as a toddler and an infant and seven years later the lastborn came into the world on April 10, 1991. The house feels unusually quiet right now. I have dwelled here for almost 25 years. Lots of clamor and movement and stomping and hollering and tears and joy went on here. My second daughter learned to walk here. My eldest lost her first tooth and learned to ride a pink bike with training wheels and then the training wheels were ready to come off and down the sidewalk I saw her go. My son made a squirrel trap with a box and a string and crouched down in the boxwood waiting patiently for a squirrel to take the bait. One Christmas morning we looked out the front window to see a donkey trotting down the street as if he belonged there. We've had two snows to actually stay on the ground for a little bit in 25 years. Nearly everyone who enters this house senses its warm and welcoming spirit. It's a cheerful little house and we draw together contentedly on holidays here. I'll post a snap of it one of these days.