I grew up in this house

My name is Rachel and I grew up in this house. For as long as I can remember my grandparents have welcomed people into their home. Those in need, friends, family members, to stay with them in a time of need or loss. I’ll be honest, I didn’t always like when they had others living with them. Maybe I felt like they were invading my space; my grandparents home, but I always knew what they were doing was incredibly kind of them. To open up your own home, well that’s something and that kind of southern hospitality is part of what has made me into the woman I am today.

So, when my Grammy decided to start a Bed & Breakfast, it was as if nothing was changing. The only difference was we had to come up with a name for it.

I would like to formally state the name ‘Back Porch’ was my suggestion, but of course, Grammy had the final say. It certainly fits, though, because the front porch is nothing compared to the back. The back porch is always the first thing I saw when I took the walk through the woods to Grammy’s House. Hiding through the wisteria, I would peak beneath the arbor to see if Granddaddy was sitting in his chair or if Grammy was out in the garden. In winter, my mom and I braved the deep snow bundled up in a rag-tag of sweaters and hand-me-down boots for me. By the time we got there, Grammy had the fire built up and hot chocolate ready. My best friend and I used to build igloos on the back porch when the snow was deep enough. Suffice to say, growing up with family in my backyard kind of spoiled me.

Because of all those things, I grew up surrounded by love and family. Even now, if you stay at Back Porch, you’ll most likely meet one of us too. After all, we’re only a walk through the woods.