Whenever I’m in Lexington I make the pilgrimage and drive to the houses where I grew up. Unlike my own children, who know only this much-loved and much-battered center-hall colonial, I had three places to call home. 

My sister and I drove past one of them last month. It’s a house I lived in only two-and-a-half years, the one I returned to from college and my early work years in Chicago. But though my time in the house was short, it left a big impression. 

I’m not used to seeing the house from the back, but we drove down a cul-de-sac that gave us this view, that showed us the deck that’s been added, the trees that have grown up in the decades we’ve been gone. 

When I look at this photo, I see not just a ranch-style house with a walk-out basement and steep driveway, but the rooms inside … and the people who used to live in them.