I would scoot my chair up to the red Formica kitchen table, as close to my grandpa as I could possibly be, and watch him devour the feast. My breakfast consisted of a warm cup of coffee with two heaping teaspoonfuls of sugar and half a cup of milk. Mind you, I was only eight years old.
The red Formica table sat on its stylish chrome legs under a huge window about the size of a sheet of plywood that faced out onto what we called the playing field. Our refrigerator stood like a knight in shining armor against the back wall of the kitchen. To the right of the fridge was our back door. The back door had a window in it so my grandma could see who was standing on the back porch when someone knocked on the door. The window had what I called a secret screen...
As a child, what was your fondest memory of the house you grew up in?
My Grandfather Mac and me (the apple of his eye) 1951