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, she 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 again live in the frozen farmlands of Western New York. But to know I had secured her under my watchful wing, under the careful eye of a loving AirBnB host, say, who could offer her up to skiiers in the winter, fishers in the summer. This will never happen.

Yet she resides in me.

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