Thursday, after we’d finally gotten everything else out of the house, after I’d mopped my way out of the house, after the van was loaded up and everyone else had left, I got out and took pictures of our happy little house. It doesn’t really fit us so well anymore, like a dress that one of the girls might have worn as a baby, but I love it. We have so many happy memories of life here, and somehow as I took the picture, a melodramatic thought crossed my mind, Maybe someday I’ll look back at this photo and think, “Ah, those were the simpler, happy times!” Boo hoo hoo. Mostly I think it was the combination of stress, bad eating and weariness. I think that a house is a house and wherever we end up we will make more happy memories. But no matter what, this is the house I brought three babies home to, where I watched them all grow up, where we welcomed so many friends, where there was so much singing and crying and love. I wrote recently about Orcas and a sense of place. This place has a sense of place, too. Goodbye, Little House, or maybe just See you later.