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When my two oldest children were very small and we were living in a suburb of Portland, Oregon I never thought that we would leave.
It was a time in my life when my family was young and I would visit my parents often.
They would dote on their grandchildren and we would have them over for special occasions - like Father’s Day.
I remember one such Sunday when we set up a long table in the backyard and had a brunch outside with vases of bright flowers all around.
When my husband got a job in Washington, D.C. we were excited about the new adventure but I was saddened knowing that my children would lose contact with their grandparents and I wouldn’t be able to drive across town to visit my parents.
It was August of 1988 when the children and I arrived.
My husband Don had preceded us and found a place to rent in Vienna.
He had done what arranging he could amidst the boxes and had chosen a flowery, wall papered room for our daughter and the small bedroom closest to us for our son, who at the time, was not yet one.
The heat was oppressive
96.2%