When our Dad built the Sturbridge, Massachusetts home,
he thought of everything for his young daughters: our
very own playhouse complete with a door and window.
We felt special since the door was tall enough for our
parents to enter. He also built a huge backyard
barbecue which I do not recall ever using. At some
point, our Dad decided we were not using the playhouse
as he had intended either. I do recall we complained to
our parents of cobwebs and spiders inside our playhouse.
The executive decision was made to store chopped
wood inside for the two fireplaces, one in the basement
and the other on the first floor. When we played
outdoors in the fall, we would look inside at the
wood piles inside the playhouse. Now covered with
cobwebs and spiders. I do recall a couple times
when our Dad tried making baked potatoes in
the hot embers and other times, we roasted
some marshmallows too. Special treats for us.
Fond memories remain of this Cape Cod style house
where roamed the woods freely and made mud pies
in warmer weather. Raking leaves into big piles.
On rainy days, we cut out paper dolls and used
our imaginations to script our own plays. Or
played a card game called Authors intended to
teach us about famous writers. I suppose those
were the foundation of my book some years later.
Our Mom had plenty of clothes and shoes for us
to don as we played dress up and modeled them for
our parents. Giggling as our little feet didn’t quite
fill up the shoes. Stories told of when she wore
the dresses. Fancy materials. Dances when she
first met our Dad in Boston. We never tired of
listening to those stories repeated over and over.