My childhood house is … still my house. After being on my own since I was 18 years old, living in college dorms, college apartments, and my own apartment and house with other single girls, I moved back into my parent’s home (the one they bought and moved us into when I was 2) the week after I got engaged in October of this year. So, it’s been an interesting experience coming full circle. I will go from my dad’s house to my husband’s, kind of a lot for this independent female to take in. Nonetheless, the house of my childhood was…
Small, but I always had my own room.
Filled with neighborhood best friends.
Right next to a community park where trees were climbed, basketballs were shot, and worms were saved (see a previous post).
Had (still has) a record player. That vinyl life tho.
At different points in time, included a pet rat (Stormy), more goldfish than could be counted, and my childhood mutt Paige Battina Lohman (may she RIP).
Involved watching Full House, Step by Step and Family Matters over pizza on Friday nights. Then, kids got to sleep in mom and dad’s bed with them. It was magical.
Had a swing set in the backyard, upon which I fractured both my wrists at the same time when I was five and wearing a puppet on my hand while I crossed the monkey bars.
Hosted a bunch of middle school girls’ sleepovers, and was the launching point for not a few high school tp’ing adventures. Needless to say, it’s also been covered in the bathroom utility paper.
Housed many awesome portable kiddie pools in the summer, along with sprinkler parties in the front yard.
Is on the same street where I first learned to ride a bike.
Used to be just down the street from a dairy and some good old fashioned silos for grain. Agrarian we were (not really).
Is now surrounded by a bunch of much fancier homes, which is fine by me, because it means we now have a Starbucks and these awesome walk/running trails in the posh “Riverwalk” area.
Will one day be Grandma and Grandpa’s house to my babies. And that makes me happy.