Picture Perfect

It wasn’t nice, not like the home you are thinking of. We had the ghetto house of the road, we all just came to accept it though. It was something you would see on some redneck, down home country TV show.
Just a little trailer with too many additions and enough cars in the yard to be a salvage lot. The air always smelled of dirty clothes and too much air freshener. The dishes, there were always so many dishes in the sink, we could’ve been mistaken for a restaurant at any time of the week.
No matter what time you wandered around our house, there were always kids running around. Often times we were called “the group home.” Most of the people wandering in and out weren’t family although they came to be.
There was visible dust on the shelves, almost like an old antique shop. Everyone knows it’s there but no one ever mentions it. It was dusty but not dirty. There was clutter and a lot of it. Every corner you turned you could find something that you hadn’t seen since you cleaned your closet out in high school. We were big on keeping things, everything had a story and we could tell you all about it, all you had to do was ask.
Although it wasn’t the best, it was packed, it was dusty, it was not your typical home, it was our home. It was our home and we were to busy being a family to do anything about it.