That snowflakes are Winter’s butterflies?

That every time a baby is born, so is a grandmother?

That this house may be a mess but it is blessed?

That you are welcome anytime as long as you’re nice?

That puppies lick tears faster than they can dry on a cheek?

That a sunbeam is the sky’s way of saying “Hello!”?

That the kitchen is where the family grows?

That a kitten is a heart’s love battery?

That my husband is always right… “right over there”?

That a pick nick still feels like home, but with less dishes?

That baking and a baby use the same ingredients: Love?

That I’m superfucking proud to be a wrinkled tart of a grandmother?

Okay that last one was wrong. I’m at work, recounting the shops we visited in Vermont and I suddenly realized a full week after, that I could write the stuff you see on faux-antique signs in Marshalls (HomeSense, to us Canadian folk).

So when you go into someone’s house and you see a sign that announces “This home is built with mortar, bricks and family” you read it here first.