I remember many things about a house we lived in down in TN until I was just out of third grade. I remember going sledding on the slope in the cow pastures across the road. I remember climbing a huge tree that grew on the edge of that pasture with my dad. I remember taking walks in the woods surrounding the house. I remember trying to fish in the nearby lake and catching my mom. I remember that we had only two year-round neighbors and one summer neighbor nearby and everyone else (to my child’s mind) lived far away. I remember having to walk a ways to get picked up by the school bus. I remember learning to ride my bike there. I remember my dad building a deck onto the house along with a picnic table. I remember him also building us a really, really neat playground which he designed himself. I remember disobeying my mom and taking my kite out when it was a bit too windy and my string snapping. I remember watching that kite fly higher and higher over the pasture until it was out of sight and wishing I’d listened to my mom. I remember one summer when all three of us decided to try to go down the slide into the kitty pool together and the slide collapsing. I remember when my mother was in labor with my brother, trying to get my sister and I dressed before the neighbor came and having to stop frequently and just take deep breathes. I remember trying to ride down a very steep, long hill on a gravel road on my bike and wiping out (another thing my mom had told me NOT to do.) I remember my dad warning us to never mess with the black snakes in the woods, but my brother and I went hunting for one anyway and he caught one. I remember…