Dear Red-Doored House, 

You are where I grew up. You and your patchy grass backyard and awesome hill in the back to bike down at full speed. I remember the one time I rode all the way down the hill and was headed straight for the fence, so I jumped off my bike just before it hit the briar bush growing up the fence. And then my bike got stuck in the fence and my dad had to come pull it out. I remember the times I would play in the woodpile with the neighbor kids. I also remember all the times the power went out and the meat in the freezer thawed. I remember all the trees that fell. I remember every smell as well. I remember that one time there was a rodent running around in the vents and we caught it using metal popcorn containers. I remember cozy winter nights by the fireplace. I remember the one time I accidentally left the oven on for six hours without knowing. I remember climbing the fence, running in the grass, skinning my knees on the concrete, drawing with chalk, the birthday parties, the 12 foot Christmas tree, and so much more. So I just wanted to thank you. Thank you for the memories.