Why I Volunteer for Habitat for Humanity

When I was 19 years old, my parents told me they were getting a divorce and that we’d have to sell the house, the only home I’d ever known. That house, in the sleepy suburb of Burlington, with the lilac trees that bloomed beneath my bedroom window every spring, the carport where I incessantly pounded a tennis ball against the brick wall, the crawl space where my friends and I would spend countless hours building forts or playing out Barbie’s dream life, and the basement door where my growth was literally etched into its framework. That house was a much a part of me as any limb and the thought of not having it to come home to knocked the wind out of me.

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