Childhood Street

You come to a fork in the road and you take a left facing a quaint street of maybe six houses. This is the place I called home from the time I was seven to fifteen. The first thing you notice when you turn on the street are the oak trees bending over swaying their branches as if they waving hello to you, welcoming you to the neighborhood. The street is lined with unique houses representing different shapes and sizes. The first few are the traditional American house: red brick, dark shutters, and empowering white columns. Then, there are a few beige stucco houses with terracotta-shingled roofs.  Dense trees surround each house creating a sense of mysteriousness.  If you listen closely you can hear the Buffalo Bayou trickling behind the houses. If you get lucky you might even see a bunny hop across the street. The street is quaint, inviting, and holds the majority of my childhood memories.