I miss having the entire upstairs.
I miss sitting on the futon on the landing outside of my room and writing.
I miss having three closets.
I miss the old fashioned doors I had upstairs.
I miss climbing outside of my window onto the roof at night.
I miss the outdated pink-ish red carpet.
I miss the 70’s wallpaper and how the wall by my bed was different.
I miss the silence.
I miss the sound of the train going right by.
I miss going out to the barn to practice trombone and play pool.
I miss summers there.
I miss walking home from school to the house.
I miss how close town was, yet it had a special seclusion.
I miss riding my bike to the cemetery.
I miss the long gravel road behind the barn.
I miss the willow tree.
I miss the neighbors. Even “keep off my lawn” Mike.
I miss the feeling I got pulling up to the house.
I miss being 13.
I miss the parties.
I miss my brother and sister sharing friends.
I miss living on Finn Street.