It was nearly a half century ago when we lived there; the house was already over a hundred years old. It was huge, even more so when considered from the perspective of a six year old. The ceilings were high enough that I believed you could have put three floors inside instead of two. The outside was the color of dark rain clouds, indicative of the many storms that went on inside. The windows were taller than me, outlined in white with irregular black specks where the paint cracked off --- or was it peeled off? There were five or six steps in a semicircular shape leading up to the front door, one of those huge doors that took two hands to open. The inside hallway had beige and black checkered tile floors. When they were wet we could slide on them on our bare feet or on our bellies. My brother and I could hold hands and stretch out the other arms and still not reach from one side of the hallway to the other. When we came home from school that day, Pop was sitting on the left side of the hallway as you walk in the front door.
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