Blog Chain - The Original Domicile

It's Blog Chain time, and our own talented contributor Jon has posed the following:

Imagine the home(s) where you grew up, and start drawing a floor plan. As you draw, memories will surface. Grab onto one of those memories and tell us a story.

Here's my go at it:

As I reach the driveway, I glance up at make-shift rim and wooden backboard.  I can't count how many times I've lost a game of Horse to Dad.  Someday I'll be able to sink his famous one-handed hook shot.  Right now though, the basket towers above me on that faded yellow pole, daring me to try a dunk one more time.

The white stucco gleams in the sunlight, contrasting against red roof tiles in the usual Spanish style.  I open the black wrought iron and enter the front room.  Mom's pristine couches are there, the ones Sis and I aren't supposed to sit on.  There's the unused fireplace tiled in tan where I have run mock battles over and over, the toy soldiers crying out with each magnificent death.  That small strip of tile has been my playground since I could sit upright.

Taking a left, I pass under the smooth arch and into my small bedroom.  There's some inset bookshelves filled with paperbacks, the spines tattered from frequent use.  A bunk bed is pushed up against the far wall, even though the room is mine alone;  I only sleep on the top. There's a small desk by the window, bought at a yard sale some time ago.  Images of Star Wars cover the walls, Darth Vader and Luke locked in their legendary battle.  It's amazing I'm not claustrophobic after growing up in this tiny room.

Heading back through the dining room into the kitchen, I look out the window over the sink.  The trampoline looks pretty inviting.  Maybe I should sleep out there tonight.  It might be warm enough and losing myself in the stars is so much fun.  I head down the stairs, stopping halfway down.  Even though it's daytime, I'm not going down into the basement.  Between the haunted house Dad created that one Halloween and the ghost with red eyes in their room, the basement is not a place to be without company.  Creepy doesn't really cover it.  Instead, I head out the back door and pet our German Shepherd.

The cinder block garage Dad had built seems twice as large as the house.  I can still see the pine trees towering on the other side though.  I remember how often I've climbed to the top, even though Mom had fits about it.  It is so cool to see the gold dome of the Capitol downtown though.  I bet no other kid has that view.  Yeah, I'm definitely going to sleep outside tonight.  I head back in to get my sleeping bag, see if it's okay with Mom.  Nah, she won't mind.

That's my glimpse of personal history.  If you haven't had the chance to check out the awesome bit Michelle Hickman wrote yesterday, head on over there.  And tomorrow you can look forward to something spectacular from PK.