This is Henry. I’ve been searching a long, long time for him. He is charming, and has good character and great bones. He sits on a quiet dead-end street, a few steps from a private footbridge that leads to a park, and three easy blocks from a very nice New England town center. The gardens have somewhat disappeared, but I’ll bring them back to a quiet glory. The yard is punctuated with several gorgeous specimen trees, casting dappled shade.
I finally feel – for the very first time – that I am exactly where I am supposed to be. Henry and I were meant to be together.