I was a very lucky little girl.
When I was about four, my dad built a playhouse in our backyard.
He had installed electricity, running water, and an HVAC system. It was a new ductless HVAC system, but it kept the playhouse comfy and cool. My mom told him he was spoiling me, but I was their only child. He was an HVAC tech and he thought he should use his perks and have HVAC for his baby girl. Up until I was almost a teenager, my friends and I would hang out in that playhouse. It had plenty of headspace, unless you were six feet tall. There was a small bathroom that was on the cramped side, but it was usable. The HVAC system was still running well, so we would bring our sleeping bags, and sleep on the floor. One evening, my husband and I were visiting mom and dad, and I walked out to the playhouse. The air conditioning wasn’t working. I went inside and told dad the HVAC system was broken. He came out and tried to make it work, but the HVAC system wasn’t cooperating. It was broken, and it didn’t want to be resurrected. I felt bad leaving the playhouse. It was like I was leaving an old friend behind. I asked dad if he could put a new HVAC system in the playhouse. He couldn’t believe I might want to play in it again. I smiled and looked over at my husband. I told mom and dad their granddaughter may want to play in it.