Red door on Narraganset street.
When we were first looking to buy this house, I remember walking into my to-be bedroom. With big eyes I looked around & imagined where I would put my dolls, I was a mom to dozens of stuffed animals & cared for each baby doll. This home had to be the one, for them. I walked into my HUGE closet and there were old telephones, the ones you have to spin to dial. I negotiated with the realtor that the house was mine "IF" I could have the red fancy telephones. Despite my best efforts, I lost the deal. I remember distantly, hearing muffled conversations of my mom & dad taking to the realtor saying stuff like "this could be the one, this could work." Walking out the door of the White House on Narraganset , my three year-old little heart knew that this place was going to be special. There I was Two years older, Running out the door, wearing ...