We live in a middle class suburb of Orlando. A neighborhood filled with hardworking families, young singles and college students due to the proximity of our local university and several of our local colleges. You don’t play in the front yard because lets face it some of our neighbors, myself included have lead foots and I’m not sure I can’t rust you guys not to run out in the road at an inopportune moment.
Instead we spend time in the back yard more often than not with neighbors next door and their pack of dogs, to which our beloved Maya seems to be long as well. We’ve been blessed to see hawks, mockingbirds and doves line our fence. We’ve had turtles come through holes in the fence and armadillos invade much to consternation of the dogs. We’ve faced the problem of wood rats eating daddy’s sweet potatoes.
We’ve grown Roses and Orchids. We delight together with each new bloom and in despair when a plant succumbs to our not so green thumbs.
What I’m saying my dear children is this; we live on a small plot of land. It is our home. Our sanctuary. A place where we can be ourselves. A place where we can relax. But, it is not the things in it that make it any of those, it is the people in it. We build memories and no matter what patch of land we happen to be on as long as we are together we are home.