The house I grew up in

Big, white, rambling. It looks just so big from the road, but once inside, you meander along and realize how far it continues in the back. Eaves and various roof-lines keep it from looking massive or austere; instead, it is a friendly-looking sort of house with a wrap-around porch and a wide front door that beckons visitors.

When I was little, only so many rooms were used. Over the years, bedrooms were rearranged and rearranged and rearranged again. I slept in all three of the original bedrooms during my 19 years. I always shared those rooms with sisters and can't imagine it any other way.

One enters the house through the front door. There in the hall are the stairs, immediately to your left as you come in. How many times I raced up and down those stairs, I don't know. I can vividly remember playing church, train, and covered wagon on those stairs, too.

To the right is the parlor, or "front room," as we call it. There are