I will never forget.

A little throw-back Thursday, y’all.  Because I’m tired from packing (basement almost done! whee!) (holy cow do I have a lot of books!) (it’s okay, I love them!)  (also I found my flute. Oops. Or, the physical embodiment of every failure I’ve ever made in my life.) (Anyway.)

This post was from the summer that we were finishing the house and were renting it to the people that summered with the Bushes. Yeah. Those Bushes. Like, 41 and 43. They were adorable and neurotic and awesome and, most importantly, didn’t really feel like the place was theirs and let me come and hang out and paid me lots of money for eating their food and falling asleep on their couch watching their seriously extended cable package (I didn’t know you could get those channels here!)…I mean, babysit. Yeah. That.

Anyway. It’s a tad dramatic, because I’d discovered wine but not prozac yet (oh, the way we were) but it’s true- I will never forget. And I got my miracle.

I get to live there in six weeks with my husband and babies.


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