Our Own Connection
As weeks turned into months, the tree in our yard became something more than just an oddity.
It became part of our story.
My kids started asking if we could add bottles of our own. “We could put one up for Grandma,” my son suggested. “She loved the color blue.”
My daughter chimed in, “And maybe one for the day we moved here—so we always remember this house.”
And so, we began.
One by one, we added bottles, choosing colors that felt right. Each time we placed a new one, it came with a story. A memory. A wish.
It wasn’t just about honoring the past—it was about weaving ourselves into the fabric of this neighborhood, this tradition, this place we now called home.
