I called Mom while I was shopping and asked, “Should I bring chocolate cake or apple pie for Christmas?” – Welcome

morning, I drove to the bungalow.

It still smelled like fresh paint and empty rooms.

Even without furniture, my parents’ plans seemed to occupy the space.

The bay window where Mom wanted lighter curtains.

Dad’s reading corner.

A pencil mark in the kitchen where he’d measured for a coffee station.

On their first visit, Mom had called it “this house you’re continue reading …