The House

I'm 63 years old.  Last summer, on The Vacation Of A Lifetime, we visited my hometown and the house in which I grew up.  As my husband and I sat in the parking lot across the street from the house, a flood of memories rushed through my mind.

The house, built in the early 1950's, looked so small - tiny, in fact.  The sloping front yard had diminished from years of rain and snow.  Two large trees had grown where before there were none.  The exterior had been renovated and no longer resembled that house of my family.

No matter; the memories were still there.