Thursday, July 7, 2011

Building the Dream

I grew up in a kind of forgotten-looking place. A peaceful, private home set back into the woods. From the road the overgrown yard gave our home a touch of melancholy that hid the magic from the uninitiated. On the inside my home was a place filled with music, the glow of candlelight, wine, food, friends and laughter. A place where everyone felt welcome, appreciated, loved and accepted. It was perfect in its imperfection.

While we were building my “dream” house I came to realize that it’s not square footage or upgrades that make a home, it’s our memories.

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