Seven years ago, when we had our first child, we had a tiny house. I mean tiny. under 800 square feet. The little yellow cottage had a stone foundation and a dirt floor in the cellar. You had to go outside and down the side of the house to even get into the cellar (where the laundry was). One bedroom, one bathroom, one closet. My father told me, after I had complained for the umpteenth time about how I hated our small house and “when we buy our own home it will be so much better than living here” well, he said, “you will miss this one day. one day you will look back and wish things were this simple again. This perfect. Some of the best memories I have are from when your mom and I lived at the cottage, or at the Chalet.” I laughed. We used an over turned and rusting washing machine, with a plastic table cloth, as a table for cookouts. We had a shop light on a hook over the grill, under a tarp that made us a “patio” of sorts. And I do miss it. More than I even thought I would. Life was simple. Rent was only $800 a month. We didn’t have cable. Barely had an internet connection. My cell phone didn’t get service in the house. There was no garage to fill up with useless junk. It was just us three. Our friends would come by on a Saturday night, park their trucks in the yard and enjoy some twisted teas by our fire pit. I wish I had taken my fathers advice and enjoyed the time we spent there. Oh I have plenty of pictures and memories from there, but I was in such a hurry to upgrade.

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