Stories told on porches in the night are the food that feeds our souls. A porch is a stepping off place, where girls kiss their parents goodbye and disappear into an adventure,where moms wait to hear their stories when they come home.It' a place where laughter drowns out the crickets, where friends become family. C'mon up to my porch, pull up a chair and tell me your story. We'll weave it into the quilt that wraps us up when life is cold.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
How on Earth Did This Happen?
Tom and I have never been known for adding up pros and cons.
Calm deliberation is not our thing.
We are more the "take a running jump" kind of folks.
This time last year, we each had a job we hated and a nice little cottage in a "good" section of town.
Now we live in a battered trailer in a tiny community with our Tom's brother and sister in law, our nieces and nephews and their kids.
I am just now realizing what happened!
Oh yeah, we retired.
Half the money and twice the fun!
I'm so glad I didn't think this through, I never woulda done it and look at all I would have missed!
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1 comment:
Cute entry, bet you have lots of stories to tell.
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