one of a kind

I was with my cousin Trish yesterday.

We were having lunch on Bull street at the

Butterhead Cafe

on our way to spend the afternoon at the beach.

She said to me,

"I have something to show you."

Out of her purse she pulled this picture.

It is the only picture known to be in existence

of the playhouse on 35th Street.

The place where Lucinda Futrelle and I spent our childhood,

raising our baby dolls.

Every once in a while I get blown away.

When I saw this picture yesterday,

I was blown away.

Thank you dear Trish for blessing my heart.

Now, on to the picture.

Lou is that you in the striped shirt?

It has to be you!

Focus just on the house for a minute.

Dad got it from the railroad yard.

It was a storage house along the tracks.

It was painted white with green trim.

It even had a mailbox.

Look at the people......

Lou, or someone I don't remember is in the doorway with me.

That's Trish sitting on the poured concrete front porch,

and that is Frankie coming in the door.

That's me, the tall one standing in the doorway.

(I was always taller than everybody else.

I must have been eight years old.

From there I say this...

It looks like a house in shantytown.

Moma's clothes are hanging on the clothesline.

Looks like we were cooking on the porch...

landscaping was sorely needed.

Looks like some excavating was going on.

I see underpanties and a diaper.

My jewel box is in the front yard.

But...as mistress of the house, I was on top of the world,

I wouldn't take anything for this picture.

Memories are made of this!