This Old House.

1876: The Battle of Little Bighorn, the 100th anniversary of the signing of the Declaration of Independence, the invention of Alexander Graham Bell's telephone, The debut of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer...and this home is born. Just any old house to you, but 349 South Main Street was my world. When my parents split and I moved out at age six, this rambling brick beauty's absence was a lover who deserted me.

349 South Main Street

Two years ago, it changed hands again, probably the fourth or fifth time since my childhood. And every time I witness the sale on Zillow, my heart hurts for the dream I had of one day bringing her back into the family.

Not that I will ever live again in the frozen farmlands of Western New York. But to know I had her secured back under my watchful wing, under the careful eye of some lovely couple who could offer her up as a Bed &Breakfast for snow bun. No, that will never happen. But She will reside in me forever.

Context: She came up in tonight's session under the topic of the mind's ability to trick us (read: me) into thinking that memories reside in the walls, not in the heart.

She's in me. Forever.

Prompt: In my childhood home, I remember.. Let it go. An ode to childhood, perhaps. A reckoning with place. Place, as real as people. Place, maybe more so.Relax with a couple of deep breaths, then let the ink lead the way.