A few weeks ago my sister rang me one morning to tell me some news.
The house we grew up in was on fire. One of our old neighbors had rang my mother to tell me that there was smoke pouring out of the house and the fire brigade were just arriving.
My parents sold the house more than nine years ago, and I have not lived there since I was about 19.
Even so I I was still rather sad that the place was on fire.
Then over the weekend on the way back from the Hunter valley, the boy and I popped by to see the damage.
The house is pretty much a write off and will need to be demolished from the looks of things.
There was nothing left inside the house when we went by and you could see in every room there was smoke and fire damage.
It's sad really even though I don't live there and haven't lived there in years a small part fo my past will no longer exist!
I grew up in that house, I learnt to walk in the house, I kisssed my first boy there (and my first girl too).
I even told my parents I was gay in the room that is burnt the most.
Goodbye old house :(
