Going on Twelve

I have pretty fond memories of the home I lived in when I was twelve. It was rather large, or so it seemed to me at the time. It was plain. It wasn’t anything fancy. It was an older home. I believe it was built sometime in the early 1900s. When I was growing up, people didn’t really build new homes. You grew up knowing all of the kids on your block and where all of the kids in your school lived. The houses were pretty much all the same. The neighborhoods were the same. Large trees. Many multi-story homes; not too many ranch homes in our neighborhood. Front porches with swings. Neighbor cats. Street lights.

I remember disliking the exterior paint color that my parents chose for our home. I liked the white house. They chose to paint it a deep yellow color. I guess it wasn’t so bad. We had a huge front porch that always had a porch swing. Sometimes I still have dreams about the mailbox hung up right next to the front door! There was a metal screen door and a heavy wooden door with pretty cool stained-glass type windows. My mom always had a sheer hung up on the door. There was a small tile entryway and then carpet. I think. There was a huge living room and a similar sized dining room. My favorite place was on the wooden built-in toy box in the dining room. It had a heavy lid, but we could store tons of toys in it. We could also sit on it and stand on it and look out the windows when we wanted to spy on the neighbors. The kitchen was rather small with its linoleum. We would sometimes hoist ourselves up on the farthest counter to look out the back window. Not sure why it wasn’t similar to the other windows in the house. It was more rectangular and sat higher up on the wall. It was really the only way to look out into the backyard. The kitchen led to the dreaded basement! I hated going down there. It was damp. It was dark. It wasn’t a finished basement by any means. My brother and I each had our own bedrooms. They were actually pretty large compared to some of the bedrooms that I’ve see in houses nowadays. Each bedroom had hardwood floors. It was always cold in the winter! We only had one bathroom in the whole house! I don’t know how we all managed! Crazy.

We lived in this home for most of my childhood. I wonder if my initials I carved into my bedroom closet are still visible…


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