I’m somewhat obsessed by the idea of what I would say to our home in a letter. This year - 2020 - has shown the worst of humanity, and home was our haven. It kept us safe, warm, cool... it didn’t judge when we stress-ate Cap’n Crunch & introduced the kids to ... https://twitter.com/lowes/status/1318888154150162432

... sour cream and onion potato chips and mayonnaise sandwiches... we have yelled, screamed, cried, laughed and had more hugs this year than any other because we’ve never had such opportunity. Our house took a beating this year. Our floors are scratched, the walls have more ...

... dents, scrapes and handprints. The yard looked its best & its worst, and the house never blanched. Our ceiling fans racked up mileage. Our dishwasher is seeking legal representation. Our washer and dryer enjoyed possibly the only break when the kids voted to...

...wear the same outfits day after day if they never set foot outside. We vetoed that plan when the garments stood up and stiffly walked themselves into the laundry room. We began to demo our eyesore & hazardous deck then realized we needed to stick it out as jobs were impacted.

We ate more meals together. We baked a record number of pounds of bacon. We removed training wheels. We shifted from the Garage of Doom to the socially distanced and plexiglass bisected Driveway of Dread (a GoD Experience). We Cloroxed the mail. The groceries. Every doorknob.

We stayed home from countless birthday parties. We ordered takeout sushi. We filled up the gas tanks. Like, twice. We hunkered down. We masked up. We prayed. Each meal, we said a blessing. If these walls could talk, I imagine them saying very little. Home is feeling safe, not

...hearing the right words. These walls heard some very bad words. They heard political debates and book reviews. Kindergarten videos, third-grade math, fourth-grade speech therapy. Meows of protest, yipping pleas to play. Snores from humans, dogs and cats.