Project Live (It's better to look up)

5 East 1400 North

American Fork 

I like to call this lovely little place home.

See that rocking chair in the corner? In the far right? That is where my mom used to sit, rocking, waiting for us to walk home from school in the afternoons. I would wave to her about a block away, she always waved back.

Isn't it wonderful?

 

I love the memories this house holds. The smell of fresh paint as Mom painted the walls of our home.  Monopoly in the upper left bedroom with my two older brothers for hours. Picnics on the lawn in the front yard, Mom's garden. Our house is filled with thick couches, one too many reading lamps, late library books, chocolate chip cookies, and warm blankets. It is far from perfect, and often a little messy. But it is mine. It is ours. It is theirs. 

It is home.

I suppose I always thought my parents  lived in a normal sized house.
you know?
you get married: and you have a beautiful house.
I told my Dad that on our daddy daughter date last night.

 

He laughed.

Not at me. He doesn't ever laugh at me when we talk, he just laughs quietly and then answers my questions.

he told me about the apartments.
the basement apartments they started out with.
lowering a swamp cooler in through the roof with a friend from work,
plugging up the vents trying to stop the smell of smoke from the crazy lady upstairs.
they built up to our house: slowly.
They didn't always have money, in fact, they were very poor.

"But I loved your Mom. and she loved me. So everything was okay." 

My mom stayed home and took care of us, watched us grow, and my dad spent long hours at R.C. Willey, and Franklin Covey.

He is a business man now.
He showed me where he works tonight.
We drove down that street in Salt Lake. You know? The one that if you squint hard enough it almost looks like you are in New York? That is where he works.

He goes there every single day.

I asked him:

"Dad, how can you do it?" "How can you go to the same job every single day?, "You don't even have a summer to look forward to."
he said:
"Rachael, my work isn't my life. You are my life. My family is my life. and I go to work every day so I can take care of what I love most."

We talked more. I told him everything. About the boy that broke my heart, school, about my dreams and plans for the future.

He is a good listener.

Afterward I said:
"I love you Dad. I really do."
and he said.
"I love you Rachael, I always have."
and he has.
He always, always has.
Until I find that boy someday who can take care of me like my Dad has taken care of me since I was a little girl:
eh.
Who needs boys?

Someday i will find him.

We will fall in love.

We will live in basement apartments.

That won't matter at all.

Because we will know. 

Until then,
I have two incredible brothers on opposite ends of the world teaching what they believe in.
And I have a Dad who takes me out for steak in Salt Lake City.

He understands everything about me
and loves me just the same.
Life is wonderful.
It really is.