• Down my long unpaved driveway- the kind of driveway it hurts to walk down even if you have Country Bare feet- there is a spot to the left about halfway down. If you looked at it now, you wouldn’t be able to see where the sky blue trailer used to sit.

    In that sky blue trailer with its two bedrooms and kitchen the size of a closet are memories. I grew up there with my dad, a stepbrother, two half sisters, and one stepmother, then another.

    The windows leaked so bad when it rained that I had to sleep on the couch. It was so cold in winter I couldn’t shower at night or my hair would freeze. My little sister lived in the “Laundry Room” when she was born.

    We’ve since moved into a house that my grandmother built further down the driveway. The sky blue trailer with it’s leaky windows, holes in the roof, and front door that hung entirely sideways has since been torn apart, sold for scrap, and what was left burned.

    As I walked down the driveway the other day I noticed you can’t even see the burnt grass anymore. What was burned had died and been replaced by healthy green grass. The tree in the back that had grown too close and ended up charred fell over in the last storm and was dragged away and used for firewood. And I felt myself grow sad as the only solid proof of my first nine years of life vanished completely.