- It was a one-floor, three-bedroom ranch, pistachio green with brown shutters. We lived on a half acre of land and the house had a fenced in-ground pool when we got it. There were three trees in the front, including one that splayed out into three big branches close to the ground, making a perfect nook for me to climb onto. Its leaves were red for most of the year, but in spring it blossomed pink.
- Most of the interior was wallpapered. There was a peach floral print in the living room (with yellow-green carpeting), some textured ivory paper in the eat-in area and hallway (with forest green carpet), blue and green plaid in the kitchen (where there was yellow linoleum on the floor), and baby blue paper in the bathroom. We eventually changed most of the carpet and flooring when I was in middle school. A short and uncomfortable magenta in the living room (my dad didn’t like anything that would collect dust), and a presentable black and white tile in the kitchen.
- My bedroom was painted a faint pink except for one wall which was covered entirely with cork tiles.
- My grandparents lived with us whenever they were stateside. Most of my early memories involve waiting for my grandma to wake up from a nap, or watching her make ensaymadas while she was watching her soap operas. She also had a small garden patch in the backyard where she grew tomatoes.
- My mom agreed to take in friend of my father’s ex after she had just given birth and her husband dumped her before she had a chance to get a working visa. She lived with us for close to a year and, according to my mom, never got out of bed before noon. I vaguely remember spending an afternoon with her — I was about four and she put some makeup on me and took glamour shots of us. After months of buying her son’s milk and diapers, my mom finally got tired of taking care of them and told her estranged husband to come get them.
- We had a huge dragon tapestry hanging in the living room.
- My dad hated the Greek neighbors across the street who, ironically, were friends with my uncle. But my dad did get along with the two elderly couples who lived on either side of us.
- We once came home from vacation to find that everything we’d left outside — patio furniture, my bike, and various yard toys — had been thrown into the pool. My dad had assumed it was the neighbors across the street and afterwards locked everything down, including the pool skimmer. The training wheels rusted off of my bike. A couple of years ago, my cousins told me they did it because they were angry that my dad would rarely let them come over to swim. They said they didn’t mean to mess up my bike, but they could’ve just not thrown it into the pool. I still harbor resentment.
- We lived in one of the safest suburbs in Connecticut, and yet my dad still insisted we put like two extra chain locks on the front door, and add a pole stopper at night so that even if somebody penetrated the locks. they couldn’t open the door. We had a safe in my dad’s closet in the master bedroom that didn’t have much more than some immigration documents and maybe a weapon of some kind, but that had two locks, and my dad installed an actual key lock to the master bedroom as well. My husband tells me he must’ve had paranoid personality disorder.
- I used to play with the boy who lived a few houses down until we got to Kindergarten and my dad told me I couldn’t be friends with boys anymore. The boy’s family eventually moved to Boston.
- I got my first key to the house when I was in fifth grade. I’m pretty sure this was the first year I was either left home alone in the morning or came home from school to an empty house. Also, I believe this is the year I started to cook my own spaghetti and scrambled eggs.
- We had no central air conditioning and only had a window unit for my parents’ bedroom. I slept
- My main chore every week was to do everyone’s laundry. Our washer and dryer were in the basement next to the big scary water heater, and every time I was there I had to sing to keep the monsters away.
- My parents once got into a fight after which my dad punched a hole in the living room wall (this was after my mom left the house). He was smart to pull down one of the wall hangings before he punched the hole, because he was able to cover it back up with the same wall hanging and visitors would never know the difference. I’m pretty sure that hole stayed there, covered up by the wall hanging, until my parents got divorced and we put the house on sale. Then he had to spackle it.
- I’d once peeled paint off the wall in the shape of a wolf.
- On New Year’s Even in seventh grade, I attempted to keep myself awake to watch the ball drop by organizing my closet. I got out all of the clothes and put them on my bed to re-fold them, but ended up spending most of the night on the floor writhing in pain. I thought it was a regular belly ache, but when school was back in session a few days later, I got my first period. I wasn’t freaked out and I knew exactly what to do and where to find what I needed because I had read Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret twice in fourth grade, and I was very proud of that.
There are a lot of memories I’m leaving out, mostly because they didn’t take place in the house or don’t really involve the house as a significant backdrop. Hoping they make it onto other lists.
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