Your Childhood Home

A few weeks ago, Husband and I gave my dear friend M a ride back from the wedding we all attended in Saratoga, New York to her childhood home. M needed to go back there to pack up her things; after more than twenty years, her parents have sold the home.

I was so happy to have a chance to see this home one more time. I have so many memories - of soccer camp sleepovers, of Larry Bird letters, of bee stings and dodged rocks, of swallowed dimes, of meals under the veranda, of birthday parties, of a beautiful and perfect wedding on my thirtieth birthday where I was the solo bridesmaid and weeks shy giving birth.

We stayed for a short while at M's house, but I made sure to run around and snap a few pictures - to send to M, to keep for myself, to remember. The picture above is of the tiny powder room. The walls are papered in magazine and newspaper clippings and I've always admired the room, its cheekiness, its spunk, its slicing color and liveliness.

Husband and I said goodbye to M and her parents out front before heading back to the city. And as I said goodbye to them, these creatures who are family to me, I had a view of the wonderful white house in the background. And it made me sad to think I might never see the house again, or spend time in it at least. It also made me thankful for the time I had there, the moments that have stained my mind, and most of all, for the girl that house produced.

M is now pregnant with her second kid. And I'm so happy that little guy or girl had a chance to spend a little time, albeit cocooned, in that beautiful home where his/her mommy grew up.

Tell me about your childhood home or your best friend's childhood home. Are these places you still visit? Have you had to pack up your past?