It's the summer of 1964 and a little girl is playing. She's jumping from the framing boards of a garage down onto a ground covered with sawdust and wood shavings. That summer I turned 4, you were built and our life together began; a life that lasted 47 years.
We shared secrets, you and I.
I know the tar smudge on that certain brick of the fireplace and the fine, hairline crack of the one on the mantle; and the tricky two-step it takes to push open the screen door and make it down the back steps before the door swings back to deliver a smack. The front door lock doesn't give up without a fight and it takes a firm hand to convince it to cooperate. The back door is much nicer, but has a certain way of closing that has to be done in two stages. Not stubborn, exactly, just lazy.
You kept my secrets, too. My name, spelled out in stickers down the inside of my bedroom door, and the hole I put in the wall by kicking off my shoe a little too hard. Remember the persimmon tree my friends and I jumped over and permanently bent? And the fact that I learned to climb using the columns in the living room and found my mom's candy stash by climbing the shelves in the kitchen pantry?
We grew up together, you and I. When we were young, I played hide and seek in your gardens, running up and down the rows of corn. I climbed onto the roof of your greenhouse to reach the best plums and I knew the turns of your garden paths so well I could run full speed and never step off into the dirt.
You were my first love, my childhood home for 25 years and, even when I left, you stayed the same. Always waiting for me to return for a visit...to come home.
We have staked our claims on each other, you and I. My initials are in your sidewalks and every year iris, daffodils and spider lilies from your gardens bloom in my backyard.
I can't remember a time when you weren't a part of my life, and even though someone else owns you now, in my heart you will always belong to me. My special place, my shelter, my secret garden, my first true love, my childhood home.
