It isn’t much. Barely a shack, really. But this little place is so full. Full of things you can’t see. ⁣
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At the table, there beside where the potatoes are now, was where Jimmy lost his first tooth. Pulled it out and held it up to the light so proud, right in the middle of dinner one night. And then he set it on the table and asked for a piece of pie.⁣
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The hook by the door is where that shabby umbrella used to hang, the faded one with two holes that let the rain in. We’d huddle together under it while we ran out to the truck before church on rainy Sunday mornings. You remember that?⁣
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And that stool in the corner over there? That’s where you stood when you were four years old and told the preacher a joke that made mama blush. I didn’t get it but the preacher laughed so hard. Mama did too…later on.⁣
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The window over the sink, now that one makes me ache a little. That’s where I watched you march off into the world with your suitcase and your hat. ⁣
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Even still, I love that window best of all the things in this house, seen and unseen. I couldn’t do without it. Because every great now and then, I get to stand there and watch you come back.