The towel is over my shoulder. Waffles are warming in the oven. The farmhouse kitchen is a wreck. So is every other room in this old Farmhouse. The floors, table, ottoman. Cluttered. Papers, socks. . . the vacuum. A trail of the day metered out as if to find the way. 'The way where," I ask? Where are we going? Where are we headed? I sit. In the midst of the chaos. In the midst of a mile long list. I sit. The youngest farm girl switched Pandora to a Classical Christmas Station. The usual Christmas music changed up a bit. Not familiar. Different. Beautiful. So, I ... View Post