My little house and I, we’ve been together for 21 1/2 years.
That’s a long stinkin’ time.
And now I’m spending one of the final evenings here in my little house, and the sad feeling is on me. Because this little house and I… we’ve been partners.
It’s sheltered me for those 21 years, and when it needed a new roof, I researched roofing companies and hired the very best one, and they took care of my little house’s little roof. And then that roof took care of me. There’s no place more snug than this little house in a thunderstorm or a blizzard.
That front door, I’ve varnished it every year. Some years, twice. And it’s welcomed me home every single day.
So now, as I face leaving my beautiful glamour wall library, I also face leaving the place where, as a solo homeowner, I’ve experienced some of my life’s most memorable moments of unadulterated joy.
And I’m grateful to this little house.
The leaving is a happy occasion—it’s downright jubilant!—but tonight I’m pausing to give thanks for this good place.