The house he built with his own two hands

The house he built with his own two hands.

The memories come flooding back.

Snowy Christmas’s surrounded by family and friends. Fall birthdays with fresh apple pies instead of cake. A little brother and two loving parents who always did their best even though the best may not have always been done to them.

I’ll never forget this place where the night sky is so clear you can see every star. Where the waterfalls of spring bubble their silvery song and dance. where I discovered my love of surfing on snow and my deep love and connection to the woods. This place where I made my first friends and saw the the deep love with which my parents’ friends regarded them.

My hope now is that some else’s children will be heard by their parents happily running down the stairs to see what Santa left them under the tree. Just like my brother and me.