The Blue House

A glimpse of the blue house from my rearview mirror

When my family was on vacay in Disney World in 1993, my 3 year-old little brother Mikey asked my Dad with big eyes, "Dad, are we ever going back to the blue house?" Since then, my family has referred to our childhood home as such.

baby Rebecca.

Maybe it's the crisp of leaves, or memories of apple pie and childhood, or back-to-school bliss... but something about fall brings nostalgia in its full form. Most of my memories take me back to this house that encapsulates innocence and delight and safety unlike anywhere else. And because your life is the only one you know when you're young, you assume everyone lives the way you do. 

Back to School : Rebecca & Daniel. 1994.

It wasn't until my high school years that I became aware of the quirks of this 1900's house.... a ladder up to the pantry, a kitchen counter made from a bowling alley lane, basement walls made of led, burn marks in my closet from the Underground Railroad, a wood-burning furnace and radiator heat, and those old creaky wood stairs. It was something I denied and tried to hide from during those try-to-be-cool years, but the idiosyncrasies have since evolved into treasures in my mind; the gifts I appreciate most as an adult.

my Grandpa and Dad circa 1980.

turns out, my dad is still just as hip in 2012.

So much of the 20's is learning to look back and appreciate the details of childhood that made it unique, instead of judging them. To reflect with the favor of understanding how you have come to be who you are because of the environment that helped raise you. The Blue House brings back so much of this... even amidst the bustle of the city, the comfort and memories of suburb life is always dear to my heart. And an era that I cling to especially in the fall.

Happy first day of Autumn.