This house was more than just a house, it was a home.

The walls have heard all of our secrets, all of our laughs and all of our fights.

The floors have support us the way that we all supported each other.

Doors have slammed out of anger but flung open at any sign that someone needed something.

When I think of my childhood memories I will forever think of this house.

When I think of the front room…

I think of waking up on my birthday and having a sign on the back of the front door.

I think of taking all of my school dance pictures on those stairs.

I think of having every one of my sibling’s senior portraits up on the wall and mine being a sub-par high school picture.

I think of all of my favorite people who have walked through the front door.

I think of my mom’s two week calendar that was on the door, without it no one would know where to go and when.

I think of late nights talking to friends for another hour just to say goodbye.

When I think of my kitchen…

I think of the place where my dad would cook us breakfast on Sunday morning, the whole house would fill with the smell of potatoes, eggs and bacon.

I think of everyone sitting around the kitchen table laughing and talking about our day.

I think of how when everyone started leaving and going away to college how precious it was to have everyone home at the same dinner table.

I think of how many laughs with friends would happen at the kitchen island.

I think of all the bags that would be there when my siblings would come home.

I think of bringing my dog home the first time.

I think of painting the windows.

I think of doing my grandpa’s hair with my sisters.

I think of how many hours of homework that was spent at the kitchen table.

I think of rhinestoning my costumes on a sunny snowy days

When I think of the family room...

I think of countless naps that have happened on the couch.

I think of how many birthday parties have occurred there.

I think of opening presents on Christmas day with my family.

I think of watching Grey's Anatomy with my mom and sisters every Thursday night.

I think of how beautiful it would look all decorated for each holiday.

I think of flipping and hanging upside down on the couches.

I think of my dog always asleep at the end of the couch.

I think of how many hour long conversations with friends and family.

When I think of my dining room…

I think of my grandpa sitting at the head of the table and him squeezing my hand a little tighter when we would let go from saying grace at a holiday dinner.

I think of all the fancy dinners and celebrations.

I think of really good food.

I think of my sister always saying holiday grace.

I think of my mom slaving over dance costumes.

I think of having all of the costumes hung up.

When I think of my dance room…

I think of when my parents first told me that they were going to put a space where I could dance every day.

I think of going down and wearing my formal dresses and seeing how they look.

I think of trying on my costumes that my mom made and falling in love with each one a little bit more.

I think of when I dislocated part of my knee.

I think of when I taught my first private lesson.

I think of how many hours I would spend down there and just dance and not care about anything.

I think of how free and sacred that place was.

I think of how many sleepovers have happened.

When I think of my backyard…

I think of how many birthday parties that were celebrated.

I think of playing sharks and minnows with my grandpa and my dad.

I think of my dad showing off his cannonball and us being surprised at how big that splash would be.

I think of being able to yell over to my best friend.

I think of how many people would come over and swim.

I think of all of the graduation parties.

I think of when we first got my dog and watching her explore.

I think of tumbling in the grass with my sisters.

I think of my neighbor always kicking his soccer ball over the fence.

When I think of Poseidon Circle…

I think of always running to my neighbor two doors down.

I think of playing with my neighbors after school.

I think of climbing my neighbors tree and my friend being caught but not me.

I think of the kids I would babysit.

I think of riding my bike and not knowing how to stop and my neighbor helping.

I think of having the bus stop in front of my house but always insisting my mom drive me to school instead.

I think of playing four-square with my neighbors.

This house holds so many memories for me and my family. It was the place that I grew up, it was the place where my family and my friends became so close. It was my safe place. It was a place that held 15 Christmases, 15 Thanksgivings and 15 birthdays. Whenever I think of my childhood, I will always think of my blue-grey house with black shutters house on Poseidon Circle.