Tag! You're it!

I got tagged by Shazza. I'm supposed to tag six of you and tell you to find the sixth picture folder on your computer and pull the sixth photo out, and make a blog entry about it and tag six more people. You're supposed to do the same, leaving me a message or emailing me to say you're participating.
Instead, if you want to play, do it and leave me a message on my blog so I can go and check your entry out!!!
This is the house Krys grew up in. We moved into this house in 1964, when it was just the three of us, Daddy, Mommy, and me. My parents liked to tell the story about how I went door to door, saying, "Hi, my name is Krys. I live over there. Do you have any little girls I can play with?"

My 2 sisters joined us in 1965 and 1966, and it was just the five of us until Belle, our Samoyed, joined the family in 1970. We had a nice fenced in backyard. I have two special memories of the backyard: we had a party for my sister's birthday back there, and my dad put up this huge parachute as a tent! And I remember the wysteria bush that grew up and over the gate - it was just beautiful.

I learned a lot in this house. I learned that a family loves each other no matter what. I learned that there's no one you can count on like a mom, a dad or a sister. I learned that my dog could be not only a member of the family, but sometimes even better than that: she loved unconditionally ane never talked back at you!!! I learned that parents sacrifice for their children. My mom always said: When you're single, you answer to no one. It's just you. When you're married, your marriage comes first, your husband second, and then you. When you have kids, the children have to come first, the family second, the marriage third, your husband and yourself dead last. And if you're not ready to make that commitment of time and sacrifice, wait to have children until you are. And I never forgot that lesson. My parents lived it every day of every year, and my mom still does.

My dad died in 1987. There's not a day goes by that I don't think of him. When I drive up to this house (my mom still lives here with her two cats), I think of my dad. As much as it's Mom's house, it's Daddy's house.

This was, and is, a happy house. It's a refuge. It's where I learned you can always go home and be welcomed with open arms. It's not the neatest or the most beautiful or the biggest or the most valuable house.

But it's home.