My Place

So my house is small, and it is somewhere around a hundred years old. Sometimes I feel dissatisfied with it, and I think I need a new one. I see beautiful, new homes everywhere I go. Maybe we will do that someday. My new house will have an open floor plan. A nice, big space for birthday parties. It will have more storage, more open space, and another bathroom. The laundry room will be right off of the bathroom, too. That just makes so much sense to me. It is fun to think about sometimes. Kevin and I are a pretty good construction team, actually. I know we could do that, build a house, but most of the time I don't really think we need to do that. I mean, when I sit on the swing in my front yard, I feel the grass under my feet, and I see this:We have a garden in the back yard. I hope to fill the pantry with potatoes, green beans, and tomatoes this summer, if we can keep it weeded, like this: We have three little people who love to ride bikes, play catch, or run around back there, like this:Cattle graze peacefully in our pasture, and fish swim in our ponds. We have dogs and cats...and flowers. We don't have a stressful mortgage hanging over our heads. In the big picture, I can't say that I am dissatisfied with any of that. Old, new, large, or small, what does it really matter? The people inside (or outside) make it my place. This is where I work, play, praise, scold, worry, laugh, love, hope, and dream. Live. What else could I possibly need?