Our home is in a tiny town you could drive through and not even know it. I remember the only sign to show you need to turn to go to the road to our house is a yellow diamond with a firetruck on it for the volunteer station, that's it, no other signs from the highway that we're there. You drive down a single lane dirt road which splits onto an even tinier path into the woods and finally splits to go down the drive to our house. Hidden away from civilization itself almost, is the house I grew up in.
My mom and I used to joke "Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother's house we go" was about my mother's house. And it's very similar to the song though you don't drive over the river, it's just a short walk from the house.
The house was small and an older style, but always warm even in a snowstorm with no power, since it was filled with my mother's love. We were too far out for mail delivery but that also meant we were too far out for salesmen. We worried about bears more than robbers and all year round we got to experience the various seasons in all their beauty in the forest surrounding us.
As a child I thought I might want to live in a bigger newer house or closer to town and the stores and entertainment options of the city. Now that I'm older though I realize how wrong those thoughts were. Now I appreciate the home I grew up in, in the woods, so much more. I realize I would rather live with my family in a smaller, older, love filled home than the newest biggest mansion in the world. I hope no matter where my family ends up living in the years to come that someday looking back my children will also feel that they grew up in paradise.
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