We used to live in Connecticut - the little panhandle area near New York City.

Jason had been in a car accident and had spent 13 months in the hospital. He was ready to come home but we needed a lot of help.
That help came in the form of his parents - who lived in Connecticut.

We flew straight there the day Jason was released from the care center in Utah.
It was 21 years ago - December, 1998.

We spent the first few years in their basement as Jason was in and out of the hospital for surgeries.
Then we rented a little cottage and finally a two-bedroom apartment.

Connecticut.
Where we thought we would live for six months but ended up living for six years.

Connecticut.
Where the comic book distraction that began during his 13 months in the hospital became a full-fledged collecting obsession.

Connecticut.
Where they have no sidewalks, steps everywhere and wheelchair accessibility is the pits - but Jason figured it out anyway.

Connecticut.
Where the rent for our two-bedroom apartment was as much as the mortgage payment on our five-bedroom home in Utah.

Connecticut.
Where summer is green and humid, the color of spring is yellow daffodils, winter is dark and the cold cuts through you, and 🍁fall is a stunning picture as you drive along the winding roads.

Connecticut.
Where access to the things we loved was just a hour away - Yankees games, Broadway shows actually on Broadway, concerts at Madison Square Garden.

Connecticut.
Where I taught early-morning seminary before school and was a private tutor after.

Connecticut.
Where I got my Master’s degree in Education and started a scrapbooking company.

Connecticut.
Where Quilt Group became my thing.

Connecticut.
Where friends became family and family became even closer.

Connecticut.
Where we went to heal Jason’s body but the people healed so much more than that.

Connecticut.
The place that became home.

We gather there with the Hall family every other year.
This was our year.

We are the Halls.
Still.
💙✊🏻