In the house I grew up in, I learned to ride my bike.
I walked across the street to preschool — it was just a short hike.
Sidewalk chalk and exploring in the woods were a few of my favorite pastimes.
Of all the ways I had to play, we never got a zipline.
The winter sledding down my favorite hill filled many an hour with fun,
And when the snow gave way to spring, the creek in the yard did run.
Overflowed boots and toes numb from spring,
Hot cocoa with peppermint mom did bring.
With the snow that was left, we made rivers and flows,
That make me so happy from my head to my toes.
The trees with the bird berries that were oh-so-gross,
Made an afternoon of fun with my friends and lovely barf tacos.
The many yard games in the field across the street,
Kick-the-can, capture the flag, and snowball fights with old and new friends we did meet.
The seasonal bears of my wallpaper came and went,
My beds involved lofting and even a tent.
The dent in the staircase that I kept a secret,
We had rabbits and birds and cats and dogs but never a ferret.
Now as I'm older the tree fort looks wonky,
The sandbox is overgrown or needs to be mowed by a donkey.
The fairy houses and mud pancakes are long gone,
But the fun and the memories are around from dusk until dawn.
The dirt patch under the swing seems to have forgotten the fun,
But the images playing in my head will never be done.
It was just a house from every loss to every win, but even still,
It was the house I grew up in.
