The other morning I woke up and the house was cold. We hadn’t switched over to heat yet, and the temperature had dropped dramatically overnight. As I laid in bed under my warm covers, my cold nose peaking above, I thought of our farmhouse.

When C was two and Big E was six months old we moved into a small farmhouse in late October. It didn’t take us long to realize that the house was a beast to keep warm. Our electric bills were through the roof during winter, as we had to rely on baseboard and portable heaters. To top it off, most of the house was set to just a few breakers, so you couldn’t run more than one heater at a time. So, we ran one in the kids’ room and every morning, Tim and I woke up freezing. I’d hurry downstairs to the bathroom and turn on the hot shower to warm up. After my shower, I’d shiver in our basement kitchen with the oven running to warm it up a bit. When I think back to the farmhouse, my first and most powerful memory is of how cold we were all the time!!

My kids still speak of the farmhouse with nostalgic sentimentality, and in their memories, nothing compares with its beauty and space. (It was neither beautiful nor spacious.) But I am pleased their memories there were good ones.

I often wonder who lives there now. How do they manage the cold, or the stinkbug infestations, or the unnatural slope of the master bedroom? I have to say, I’m just glad it isn’t us!