This is to be the last day of the last weekend here.
The house should close Friday.
The first house I ever bought. The first house I ever sold.
It has offered shelter from storms, when we danced in the rain and then ran from the thunder.
Greeted me with pink and orange sunrises, and huge, omg-come-look-at-this-moon, full moons.
Countless conversations have been had here.
It holds the box where letters have appeared from my sweet brother.
I've gotten lost in so many books here.
The smell of wildflowers waft over and fill it up.
I've listened to the buzz from the wings of bees and hummingbirds.
I've watched momma and daddy birds build their nests, with great care, to hold their babies. Watched them feed those babies, and then watched those babies take first flight. From and on this very porch. They are much the same as I.
Dreamed of big dreams.
I've been welcomed home and said goodbyes with hugs and kisses.
From this porch I've watched seasons change, watched my children grow, laughed and cried, but laughed so much more.
It has been home. The extension of home.
How I have loved it so.
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