Helen of Troy and Joey of Friends (Troy and Joey) are cutting through the side of my current residence. I can feel the vibrations of the saw on my feet as I sit inside my hopefully permanent home. And oh, how I pray this is it. We really like it here. No more moving from house to house, touring the potential of places but not seeing it all into actual reality. We want to get to stay to use this house. Fit into it. Pare down our things. Make it simple, uncluttered (except for the boys' rooms), beautiful. Our new beginning in this old city.
This house sits in downtown York. Besides moving home to be near Mom and Dad, York is the best place on Earth. At least, for me it is. We can walk everywhere if we want, or we can drive and get there faster. A trip across town? Five minutes. Fifteen walking. Restaurants (a chicken BLT pita slathered in ranch dressing to die for), a theatre, flowers, gifts, outdoor store, antiques, churches, etc., all just down the street. A very pretty street, at that.
And how could I not mention Walmart, one of only two choices for groceries? Walmart? Why yes please. Boys got their haircut there just yesterday while we talked to the sweetest young couple that had come into the city from Hickory Grove, a place too small for its own stoplight, much less its own Walmart. When we left, I saw them walking around the store still holding hands. Ahh, you have to love Walmart and young love. (I would like to find a local barber in support of small business, but Miss Ann at the Smartstyles captured my boys' attention, so we may be going to Walmart for awhile longer.)
And the people. Oh, so welcoming. So kind. So willing to let us make York our home. We haven't found that everywhere. Feeling accepted so early on truly is a blessing not all towns give. Our neighbors? Two Texas ladies with British accents in the big yellow house on the left and a family with their three youngest out of twelve still living at home on the right. The ones on the right cut our grass and feed our kids almost every day. I'm going to have to go back to Walmart soon to restock their juice box fridge they leave open on their porch. (I told my boys not to go up there without permission, but Miss Debbie told them to have all they want, so you can guess who they keep listening to.)
So, back to you, Helen of Troy and Joey of Friends, please do a good job on that side of my house so that we (being Michael) can actually buy it once and for all. Like I have said already, I really like it here.