I'd moved back to my hometown. Been looking forward to it for a while, so I felt good. I was in a U-Haul, with my SUV in tow. Through Kansas, Oklahoma and Arkansas, it was a cool trip across America.
I arrive at the address she gave me, and it's a really nice 3-bedroom ranch home. Two thousand square feet, two-car garage, central air. For a divorced guy like me, it's plenty of house. The front door opens, and my mom comes out to greet me, wearing a tool belt. Seems she'd been working around the clock to make this happen. She built the foundation, the framing, put down the wiring, picked the appliances and did the wood flooring.
As she greets me, my mom apologizes. She was inside working on a granite counter for the breakfast island, and it wasn't done. So, I felt obligated to take her to one of those big-box, warehouse home improvement stores.
The store was as big as an aircraft hangar, and nearly as cozy. We walked around that place for quite a while, but didn't quite find what she was looking for. As a good son, I didn't dare second-guess her decisions in this area. I was still blown away that she had built the house from scratch. So, we walked some more. And we walked. And we walked some more...
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