Thinking about my childhood home brings me solace, joy, and cherished memories. Our charming two-story colonial house with a front porch and a wooded backyard still stands in a quaint neighborhood in the city where I still reside today. It was the only house I lived in before I got married.

My family moved to Canfield, Ohio from Michigan after dad got a job transfer to help orchestrate the opening of a new General Motors facility. Our house was constructed in 1965 and with every piece of wood and nail that built our home, little did we know that our mom and dad were also building a beautiful life for me and my 4 siblings. Forty Christmases, roughly 100 birthdays, 60 first days of school, 2 engagements (including my own!), and eventually, the first of many grandchildren pitter-pattering around plus countless of other milestones were celebrated in this house.

Growing up, we spent carefree summers riding our banana seat bikes in the driveway, playing kickball in the yard then coming inside at dark full of mosquito bites, happy and content. In the winter we sledded down our neighbor’s hill at least a hundred times and made snow forts near our plastic light-up Nativity scene, complete with a manger dad built, in our front yard at Christmastime. The fall season was always a blast, raking leaf paths with our neighbors across both our backyards playing tag in the mazes of finished piles. In late spring, I smelled the blooming lilac bush in our side yard as mom hung laundry on the clothesline draped between two giant oak trees.

Our sweet house was our world growing up. People often say that it’s a family that makes a home, which is true, but sometimes I think our house, number 161, misses our voices, all the laughter, and love mom and dad built for us 57 years ago. I hope as you recall YOUR childhood home, it brings you comfort and wonderful memories as our beloved house did for our family. Forever Dartmouth Ave!

Today’s post happens to fall on the day our dad died, two years ago on March 25, 2019. Always thinking about him and mom. This story is dedicated to them and the love they had for our house. I’m positive they will always have their arms wrapped around 161.