The Writing 101’s Day 11 challenge is to write about where you lived when you were twelve. I’ve covered the age of twelve, and revisiting my childhood home, in other posts, but this one is different. As I began thinking about my old house, lots of things came back to me, and I’ve tried to capture a few of them here.
When I was twelve, I lived in a two-story red house on the corner of Pine Street and Main. The local Pioneer was across the street to the north, and we had a huge back yard. At least, I thought it was huge. Then again, I thought the house was huge, too. Trees filled the yard, and flower beds existed in various states of decay. They weren’t the only things in that state.
If I close my eyes, I can still see the white linoleum that was always dirty near the front door and the peeling wallpaper of the dining room. I can still see the sun glaring off the screen of our old RCA TV (’80s vintage, of course). I can still see the colorful patchwork of carpet hidden by all the crap that littered my room and the kitten posters on my seafoam green bedroom walls.
My mom hated that color – she wanted me to pick something a shade darker, but I loved it. It was better than the ugly shade of blue that matched my parents’ bedroom, and a heck of a lot better than the Pepto Bismol pink…
So for the Writing 101 Day Ten post, I’m supposed to write about my favorite food, and do it in my own voice. But everything I write is in my own voice, so what does that even mean? I mean, I have different voices, obviously – there’s the voice I use with my kids, the voice I use with my kids when they’re in trouble, the voice I use when I’m talking to other adults, the voice I write novels in (and that changes depending on the story), the voice I write blog posts in, the voice I write my diary in…
The day four assignment for Writing 101 was to write about a loss. I’ve had a lot of loss in my life, from my parents and grandparents to my first marriage and more. Loss is part of life, though not necessarily the most fun part. And sometimes, what we gain more than makes up for what we’ve lost.
I no longer have the luxury of privacy, because Cricket and Thumper believe me to be their servant, created solely to give them whatever they want five minutes ago. Apparently when I became a mother, I also became a clairvoyant genie. Who knew?
That’s right, last night I got to go to a movie. With my husband! A real, actual date! It was awesome!
Our new house is considerably smaller than our old house, especially the kitchen. There’s no dishwasher and a lot less counter space, so I had to do dishes yesterday morning by hand; the lack of dish-stacking space required I do them in two batches. The boys were watching 
I was initially a bit apprehensive about moving back to the country. I loved visiting my grandparents’ farm when I was a kid, but when I lived in the country with my first husband, it just wasn’t what I expected. I was happy to move back to town, where I lived but a few blocks from the major entertainments (library, theater, bowling alley). I liked walking places and stopping to chat with people along the way.
Suddenly they all died. The end. 