I have often walked down this street before...and roller skated down it also, many many times. From this house I left to go to nursery school during the early years of WW2..my mom was working "in the war effort" as they used to say. So I attended nursery school for 2 years before Kindergarten. This is the house to which my baby brother never came home. At this house, my grandmother came to live with us when I was 15 months old. My grandfather died unexpectedly in his early 60's and back then there was little or nothing for widows. At age 26, and age 30, my mom and dad, married 6 years had a 15 month old and a mother in law to support. We lived here til I was nearly 8, by then I had a baby sister, 7 years younger than me. And if you are looking back across the years, you probably can find the home, the place of your childhood innocence..of games played on lawns in the twilight of early evening, of snowball fights across the side street, of sledding on the neighbors hill, of looking for 4 leaf clovers, and of scuffing your way to school through the leaves of autumn. A very sweet elderly lady said to me, years ago, "Memories are such comforting things, aren't they?" and I'd have to say "yes, they are". Not all the things we can remember comfort us, but as we do with fabric, we can pick and choose what we like best, and use those..*VBS*