My wife and I live with our six kids right across the street from the house she grew up in.  Her 93 year old mother still lives there.  We are one block away from the high school where we were sweethearts.    We’re about a mile and a half from the house where I grew up. Before we were married I used to walk to her house every evening, hang around looking deep into her big brown eyes and all that stuff and then walk home in the wee hours.

We never believed that we had to find the right place to live before we could start being happy.  My personal preference runs toward the rural… well, okay, the inaccessibly remote.  I’m not sure my wife has a strong preference; she’s always been way ahead of me in the realization that people and relationships matter, places not so much.  So we…