The only home I remember as a child stood firm on a winding cul-de-sac. When I was old enough to care I found out it was bought from the developer who was living in it at the time. It turns out his money had been tied up in the different homes on our street and so he found himself living there until my dad bought it. He was sick with cancer and glad to sell the last house he built to end his life well. If the legend was to be believed it was purchased while my mom was on bedrest with my younger brother, without her knowing.
Since before anything I can recall, I lived in that blue house on the small creek leading to the Minnesota river. [Read more…] about Being Molded by my Home