Sometimes after the boys are asleep as I am wandering through the house picking up toys, closing curtains, and locking doors I realize this is my Meadowview Drive.
My parents built the house I grew up in the year I was born. They moved in when I was maybe six-months old and that was our house until I was out of college. We moved into this house when our oldest was three months old, and I wonder is this his Meadowview Drive?
It's not the perfect house. The stairs are too narrow, the bathrooms too small, the kitchen could use an update. But so could Meadowview Drive. What can't be remodeled are all the memories of playing in the basement, my closet, and the big fir tree in the corner of the yard. All the Christmases, birthdays, and special occasions that were held at Meadowview Drive.
In these turbulent times it sometimes feels like a tornado whipping up around me ready to rip my world apart leaving shreds of anxiety, chaos, and doubt. I wander through the house picking up toys, closing curtains, locking doors, and praying - that this is their Meadowview Drive.
This post made me tear up. It is so sweet and comforting in our world of the "next, bigger, best thing". I can only hope that our kids have the same feeling about our home that you remember from growing up.
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