I was six when we moved into our new home in the Hunter area of West Valley City, Utah. My dad was a general contractor for homes in Holiday, Utah. The Parade of Homes highlighted houses people could walk through and get ideas for their own homes. My parents even put money down on the Holiday house my dad was the general contractor for.

At the last minute, my parents decided not to buy that house. Instead, they chose to build a home in Hunter with three-quarters of an acre so our family could have a big yard and a little farm. That house was wonderful for me. It felt open and full of possibility, like a place meant for growing and learning.

Not long after, my dad built a barn and got goats, ducks, geese, and chickens. For a kid, this was an amazing way to grow up. I learned about animals, hard work, growing a garden, and working together as a family. It was a hands-on education that shaped my days and my values.

Life lessons came often, especially lessons about life and death. You learn real fast how fragile life is. The goats had to be milked morning and night. You always knew when you were late because you could hear them crying, as if they were saying, come milk me and feed me.

I grew up drinking goat’s milk, and it was normal to us. We didn’t notice anything different until the goats got into the weeds, and then the milk had a strong taste. We learned to keep them out of the weeds as much as possible. Even with twelve people drinking and cooking with the milk, we often had extra.

My mom hated wasting food, especially milk. She would call the neighbors and say, “We are having apricot pineapple ice cream tomorrow night if you want to come over.” I was amazed how often we made homemade ice cream with an old hand-crank ice cream maker. We all took turns cranking, laughing, and waiting.

I spent hours in the barnyard, singing, talking, and playing with the goats, living in my own little world. Years later, while I was on a church mission, I learned my dad would no longer keep animals. When I came home, the barn was gone. I felt sad, yet I could look back and see how simple those days were. I feel blessed I had that childhood, with no regrets.