Perfect Places

When I think of the perfect place to spend a perfect weekend, I think of my parents house.  Filled with fond memories of holidays, and casual gatherings.  It is the only place I can go and truly feel at home.  It is also the only place I can go on the weekends and do my home work and not feel guiltily for not spending every waking moment with my kids.  I also believe it is the only place I can go and have complete and utter piece of mind.  In the middle of nowhere sits a house on a hill surrounded by beautiful green grass as far as the eye can see.  In the distance rows of hay bails are neatly lined so precisely you can still see the lines from the tractor rake.  It reminds me of how carpet looks after you vacuum it.  The land is topped with streams, ponds, and hundred's of trees.  Horses, cows, and at the right time of day dozens of deer graze the neatly manicured fields as they too seem to enjoy the land as much as I do.   There is always something to do, weather it be cleaning, cooking, yard work, tending to the farm, or even just napping in a hammock.  To me, the sight of the house on the hill is serenity.  It is the light I see on a Monday morning.  It is my home away from home and I love it, to me "there is no place like home."