This isn’t the house I grew up in… my parents moved to Houston February of my senior year of high school.

I can remember looking at the house with my mom when we were deciding which house to buy. We fell in LOVE with the curtains and the windows… light everywhere!

I can remember when we first moved being absolutely miserable.

There was a little corner on the right that I would hide in and talk on the phones for hours, just sure I would never make it through the most traumatic experience ever.

But, you know what? It worked. (Note:  my senior in high school self is begging me not to write this, but….).

I am thankful that I moved.

I am so thankful that my father had a new job. 

He had gone to ‘work’ every day for two years. Showing up at the front desk of where they had had a reduction in force just to see if they needed him.

And you know what? They did.

Can you imagine? Every day for two years. Getting up in the morning, just to ‘see if they need you’? Ugh. He is amazing.

My mother did an amazing job of making this as homey as possible.

I left for Texas A&M that August, but my parents are still there. It is hard to believe that they have now lived in this house longer than the house than the house I grew up with in Plano, Texas.

Now it holds holiday events and birthdays and it is grandma’s house to my kids…