We moved to this house in Kansas when I was three or four years old. My parents were divorced so it was my sister; Betty, Mom and myself. Betty was ten years older so often it seemed like I had two mothers.
It was a small house. The living room is across the front with the couch always under those three windows.
In the middle of the "back wall" was the archway into the kitchen which reached to the back of the house. It was a big sunny kitchen and I always loved it. All the counters and appliances were down one wall which put the stove behind the back door (when it was open.) I remember walking the 2 blocks home from school for lunch and making tomato soup on that stove.
On the other side of the door was the old wringer washer. How hard Mom had to work to use that washer. Clothes were hung on a line that stretched across the back yard.
If you turned left in the kitchen you walked straight into the bathroom. A quick right turn went to our girl's room and Mom was in the front bedroom. You can see the window at the back of the porch. Betty and I had bunk beds and she would sit on the lower bunk and smoke. I hated it. She was an artist and had her easel and oil paints in one corner of the room. She said the one time she really wanted to kill me was when I got into her paints. Apparently I only did it once.
I was ten when Betty got married and I moved into the front bedroom and Mom finally got the master bedroom. I loved my room. It didn't have a closet and so I had an old brown metal wardrobe for my clothes. There were two windows and it was painted yellow.
Here's Betty, me and Mom blown up from the photo above. Mom looks so tired and sad. Betty looks rather mad; she hated having her photo taken.
Give us a "memory tour" of a house you lived in as a child. As you make the tour you will be amazed at some of the memories that come swirling up. (Like the tomato soup.)