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As Cate and I walked home from my friend's house a few nights ago (well, I walked...she thought it would be fun to race me even though I wasn't running), I had a thought pop into my head. That happens sometimes. Here's what it said to me.

I like where I live.

It's true.

I like that Cate and I can walk to my friend's house a few short blocks away and almost no cars pass us by. She runs down the side of the road (she can't run on the little rocks or else they'll get stuck in her sandals and then it's the end of the world) and I don't worry that someone will come zooming past and knock her into next Sunday.

I like looking up and seeing the mountains.

I like my neighbors. I mean I really, really like them. They love my kids and they don't seem to get tired of all our little visits when the weather gets warmer. My kids like to go visiting because they know most of the time they'll end up leaving with some kind of treat. A few of my neighbors are giving Danny little jobs to do (because one day he asked me if any of the neighbors would give him jobs to do so he can earn money for Lego Land). 

I like that I live in the house my grandpa built. My dad grew up in this house. It's not big and fancy. I'm not sure there's anything state of the art about it (although when it was remodeled 12 years ago we had a tankless water heater installed...that was awesome until it died last year and now we're back to the big cylinder like everyone else and no endless supply of hot water but somehow we manage). 

I like that some of my neighbors knew my grandma and grandpa and they tell me stories about them. 

I like that I only have to walk a few blocks down to Main Street in the summer to watch the parade. 

I know there must be something awesome about building a brand spanking new house from scratch but I don't think that's for me (at least right now...ask me after I've washed dishes by hand for another 10 years and I might be singing a different tune). 

I like it here.