Do you want to buy the greatest home in world? I think you do.
It's just a regular house that's for sale. If you want to see the specs and such click here. Nothing special to you, but to me it's a home steeped in memories. The farmhouse where my mom grew up, is Oma and Opa's to me. It's where I have made many of the best memories of my life, and this home, that I know and love so well, is now for sale, and so before it goes there are few things I want to say.
Memories of learning to farm for the first time. Of building vast quinzes with my cousins every christmas. Being a right rascal at their small summer camps. The sandbox has the softest sand I've ever played in. The rope swing is unparalleled and the barn always guaranteed some cute new little animal. The long, connected dining room, kitchen, and living room is just large enough to squeeze in all the aunts, uncles, and cousins on one long table for Christmas dinner.
The deck is quite nice. It has the shade of two giant oaks. The deck reminds me of hot dogs and sausage burgers on the barbecue, with great uncles sitting around telling stories to each other while really trying to keep my young eyes as wide as they could. Through that all of us spit a copious number of watermelon and sunflower seeds off the deck into the luscious grass below.
The playroom was always a sure bet to find our favorite toys or books. That's where us cousins would always go when we got up early, (which was sometimes hours before other adults). We would crawl up or down the stairs depending where we had been sleeping, and creep through the dark house, but without fail, when we got to the playroom, Opa would always be sitting at his desk in the wee hours of the morning praying and studying his Bible. This unspoken example of commitment and faithfulness was a more powerful message than any other. You don't just get up early in the morning after being kept awake late at night by a rowdy household, without a rock hard faith. That will stay with me forever.
Most would call the entrance cramped, but I never noticed. That may be because I flew through, pausing just long enough to discard my shoes. (Oma was strict about not running into the house with shoes on). I would fly in as soon as I was de-shoed, to see Oma and Opa and whatever cousins may have been there.
Where one enters, one must also leave, and so there I learned how to say goodbye. Mom and Dad still bundle us into the van, always happy but never wanting to go. Opa, without fail, stands at the kitchen window to wave goodbye. Now the season has come to say goodbye for the last time. My heart will be sad not wanting to let go, and yet a glow of joy shall be mixed in for the Memories that I can forever cherish, and the childhood that I had.
So when Oma and Opa move out, I'll shed a tear but I know you'll grin from ear-to-ear knowing you bought the greatest home in the world.