Foto Friday: 114 Osprey Drive, Groton, Connecticut
A military family lives in a house, generally, for just couple of years (or just a year…). The longest we lived anywhere was four years (the shortest… a year). So look at the house below and think what that means to this one little house in the middle of Navy housing in Groton, Connecticut. A new family every three or four years. Anywhere between 2 – 7 families in a decade. How many coats of paint cover childrens’ height marked in pencil on the wall? How many pets might be buried in the backyard? (Our beloved guinea pig, Ian, lies behind this house, near the tree I’d climb, pretending it was my lighthouse; we moved here from Maine and a lighthouse.)
Imagine the stories that could be told by the children who roamed the neighborhood — I myself can tell you about the Great Crab Apple War, the igloo my father made after the big blizzard, the boycott I organized against the cheating Good Humor man, the sledding hill called the Big Dipper (it doesn’t seem so big now), the old stone wall where the neighborhood bad boys hid our stolen Christmas light bulbs (I found and retrieved them!), and the boy who used to ride his bike and vanish into the fog of DDT sprayed behind Smokey Joe’s truck as it drove through the neighborhood. (I often wonder if that boy is still alive.) Oh, yeah, no big deal, but there was also that time I caught fire reaching over the stove.
Moving so often, I attempted to find a way to organize my environment — I’d draw maps of the new neighborhood as I learned the local landmarks and secret shortcuts for a bike. I’d draw plans of our house (see below), or fantasize about what our next house might look like and draw imaginary decorating schemes.