My husband and I went to a house today for a final walkthrough before a closing. We met the owner there, who was the daughter and estate owner of the gentleman who built the house, mostly by himself. She and her brother had grown up in that house and her father and mother had lived there until they died. Her father had taken immaculate care of the house until he was no longer able.
The sister arrived for a last look at the home before it was sold. She was sad and I was sad for her. She knew the home would eventually be torn down and an expansion of our children's school would be built there, but that didn't make leaving any easier today.
We talked about her father and what he did to build the house. My mother had known her father and had worked his entire career at the same college my mother had worked at for most of her career. She pointed out pieces of his home that had come from the college when it had done upgrades over the years.
As we were leaving, I told her we would do what we could to remember her father and family and we hoped the children who would be on the land in the future would have many years of joy as well.
The Big Boy Update: My son laughed at something, paused and then said, "I want to laugh all day!"
The Tiny Girl Chronicles: My daughter told me at lunch, "french fries make me dizzy."
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