The old farmhouse I grew up in is long gone. Torn down for the sake of progress, as a new highway cuts a path of connection and commerce through the heart of it. I remember it as a simple home, not anything impressive or grand, like the new trendy farmhouses you see on Pinterest or the like. No, there were no marble counter tops, not vaulted ceilings with exposed beams. No gleaming hardwood floors polished to high shine, no white walls, and no large laundry rooms with built-in dog wash sinks. It was a simple home, two bedrooms down stairs, one bedroom up stairs; a single bathroom to service the whole home, and one large storage/playroom area up stairs. A well used and lived in kitchen, with tiny panty area and fold away doors to hide the washer and drier. Built by my great-grandfather many years ago and a testament to the love and care he had for his family. The home was old enough that there was a phone nook in the tiny hall way; I vaguely remember my mother having the...