Simply a House
Standing in a field with my daughter nodding off against my shoulder, the silhouette of my parents’ house black against the moon-washed sky, I wonder how much I’ll end up missing this place. We spent the weekend going through boxes and files, putting old files into new boxes and the contents of old boxes into new files. The chatter of voices only broken by a rogue sneeze as dust danced near irritable noses. I'm not the most sentimental person, but I grew up in this house and now, as we start ...