We thought a bigger house would be,
The answer to all of our prayers.
And getting away from our little house,
Would eliminate all of our cares.
I never thought that leaving it,
Would ever be that hard,
Till the memories came rushing right back,
To lemonade stands once in our yard.
It was the home of a lot of first,
And it made me stop and think,
Our son\'s first bath when we brought him home,
Was right there in our little sink.
I watched my son from an easy chair,
First crawl and then pull up with help.
With encouragement and outstretched hands,
He took his very first step
Right out back inside the fence,
We threw and played catch with a ball.
And inside in the kitchen,
We marked his height written right on the wall.
I remember him in the driveway,
With a backpack looking all cool.
Smiling and waving carrying his lunch,
Awaiting his first day of school.
It\'s not brick and mortar, that makes you a home.
It is the memories it holds inside,
It is those memories that make your house,
Much more than a place you reside.