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The Handy Man's parents still live in the house they bought when he was in kindergarten. Each room holds memories for him. The basement where he helped paint his mother's freezer. The backyard is where he played and ran from the torments of his older brothers. He can name the families that live in the houses up and down the street. If we went to church with my in-laws, there would be many worshipers who could tell me stories about my husband and his childhood antics. They'd smile and resist the urge to pinch his cheeks. My family moved a lot when I was growing up. A lot. There were two very long trips between Idaho and Arizona that I remember well. Laying in the way-back of our green station wagon, watching the sky fly by at a brisk 75 mph. Mom packed lunches and wet washcloths in plastic bags for the long journey. Stops at the rest area were mini adventures where we were left to explore the rocks and cactus. The house where we lived dur...