The house was originally built by my great-great grandfather and was were my grandpa and my dad grew up. When I stared kindergarten we were starting a major renovation. We were replacing the small root cellar (which could only be accessed from the outside) with a real basement and having new siding put on.
In school one day the teacher had us draw a picture of our houses. Since I knew we were going to change the outside from white to yellow, and because you can't see white crayon on white paper; I drew a yellow house. The neighbor boy who was in class with me told me that wasn't a picture of my house. My house was white, I needed to draw a white house. "Yeah, well it's going to be yellow!" I told him.
Our house on stilts |
Another time I was playing with the dog on the edge of the hole. I was sitting right at the edge with my feet dangling. The ground underneath me started to give way and I could feel myself starting to slip. I grabbed the dog, hoping she would be able to pull me out, but she knew what was happening and was desperately trying to get away. She struggled out of my grip just as the ground gave away and down I went. I don't remember how I got out or how long I was down there, but I do remember having a black eye from the fall and having to explain how that happened.
With a month left of her pregnancy and the house still on stilts, Mom was getting nervous. She was having nightmares about the house tipping over while we were inside and she swore she could feel it swaying when the wind blew. That last month of her pregnancy she and I had to move out and live with Grandma until the basement wall were finished and the house could be put back on the new foundation.