Where I Hanged My Hat Growing Up.

(The following is another writing course assignment I had to complete)

156 Lynnfield St. now.When I was twelve years old, I lived in Peabody, MA, (pronounced Peabedy, if you were from these parts.)  I was the oldest of five (we became six when I was in high School!).  The house we lived in was built in 1890.  It was a two story house, four bedrooms, a living room, family room and combination kitchen and dining room.  We had a large yard, with an old, stand alone garage.  We had an apple tree way in the back, which never produced any edible fruit, the same with the wild grapes that grew around the edges of the yard.  We did have same blackberry bushes, which gave us some delicious berries.  Beyond our yard, there was a farm field, which lay fallow.  And further back, were woods, where one could hike through, and play various games.

There were some unique features of this house I grew up in!  We did not have a garbage disposal; we would bring our food scraps, and dump them in slop bucket, set in the ground.  Somebody would regularly come and empty the buckets.  The contents would be taken to a nearby pig farm, to feed the pigs.  In the summer heat, would see thousands of maggots crawling around the bucket pit.  The other unique feature of the house was “the bridge!”  In the middle of the house was the stairway that lead into the second floor.  There was a small room that separated the two front bedrooms, and a small bridge, over the stair well, which connected the rear of the second floor with the front.  It gave access to the bathroom without having to go through all the bedrooms.  Whenever we had neighborhood kids over, they thought having a bridge in the house was weird and cool!

There were very good times growing up there, and some sad times.  There were times of celebration, of sorrow, conflict, and coming together.  It was my home, and I will always miss it.

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