Home Is Where the Heart Is (Or Is It?)

My parents bought a home in the country after marrying. Almost 60 years later you wouldn't recognize the place. The lengthy gravel driveway I ran barefoot is buried under burning asphalt. The mulberry tree, turning our fingers purple, was cut down decades ago. Corncrib tunnels I climbed, peeking through wooden slats, was taken by tornado. … Continue reading Home Is Where the Heart Is (Or Is It?)