I am grateful for backyards. The first backyard I remember having was in South Carolina, and it was three acres ranging from neatly mowed grass to what I considered to be full-throttle forest. That backyard hosted parties, gardens, firecrackers, a treehouse, a cannon, rogue chickens, various dogs of all sizes and degrees of training, a zip-line, a wedding, a four-wheeler track, and a wood framed store where my sister and I sold mud pies and moss.

My last backyard was a great childhood backyard. It had a wooden play-set with swings and slides and a rock-climbing wall. It had an above-ground pool. The fence bordered my best friend Tammy’s yard, and we ended up ripping down a section soon after Finn was born when we realized what a wicked pain in the ass it was going to be. It was good for quads and snowmen and luge tracks. And parties. I threw some great parties there in July’s gone by for Finn’s birthdays. A negative was the raccoon infestation. Those suckers ‘ll try to carry off your cat, given the opportunity. And they don’t respond to pleas, or, if it escalates, harsh language. But that’s a story for another day.

My last backyard was nice. My current backyard makes me stop and stare and consider where I came from and how I got here and where I’m going. My current backyard gives me pause and it gives me peace. My current backyard is amazing.

My current backyard is about half an acre?

(I have no concept of measurements. I give directions by minutes and I cook by sight. My house is a small four-bedroom renovated Cape. I know “small” and “four-bedroom” don’t go together. You’ll have to trust me on this one. You could fit six of my houses on my yard. That’s my best description of the size.)

In any case, it’s whatever-size of soft green actual grass that, when mowed, conforms to the alternating pattern you see on baseball fields. With the lines? I love that. It slopes from the road to the lake, with a whole half of it left empty for chasing and making sled runs and throwing frisbees poorly. It has a huge tree, and it ends with a small deck with stairs that walk into the water and a sturdy dock that’s the perfect size for fishing or jumping or launching a small inflatable craft that I swear is a boat because it has oars.

The sunsets in my backyard are breathtaking. The most breathtaking thing, however, is that it is home. I have scattered this backyard with friends and food and fun. My children have squealed down the rolling hill on sleds and adrenaline and their own two feet and their love of the chase. They can run forever, and I can finally stand still.