David and I first lived as husband and wife in a little, yellow, four room house in Iva, South Carolina. It was located on Green Street. I will take you on a walk-through from the front door.
The house opened into a hallway. Straight ahead was the door to the only bathroom. Before one reached the bathroom door, there was a single door to the left and a single door to the right. The door to the right entered our bedroom. This was a decent-sized room, as were the rooms in most of the mill houses that I have lived in. The door to the left went to the rest of the house, opening into the living room. If you took a right in the living room, went through the door ahead, you were in the dining room, which also had the second entry door to the house along the right wall. Walk straight through the dining room and you would enter the kitchen. The entry into the washroom and the walk-in pantry were to the right.
This kitchen was very special. I am less than average height, being just shy of 4' 11" tall. My late father-in-law, bless his heart, bore my lack of height into consideration when remodeling this house for us. He had the carpenter visually measure my height (without me knowing it) and then build the kitchen to work for me, not against me as every other kitchen in my life has done. The cabinets and counters were done lower than average so that it wouldn't cause me discomfort to use the kitchen. Papa Bruce (what we called David's daddy) knew that I loved to cook and he wanted to make it as easy as possible for me to do so and to take care of his son's appetite.
Near the back entry, there had been an old well. Knowing that he wanted grand-babies, and we wanted to give them to him, he had to do something to secure that well so that his future grand-babies wouldn't fall into it. His solution was to cap it and pour a patio over it. I think that he was a pretty clever guy. The funny thing is, once he found out that I was pregnant, he bought a house closer to his house for us to move into. His grandchildren never set foot in that little yellow house on Green Street.
Most of the houses that David and I have lived in over the years have been either torn down for new construction or for a parking lot or they burned down. I have no idea if our first house exists anymore, but the house in which we lived when our first son was born is gone as is the house in which we lived when our second son was born.
No matter which house I recall, there are some fun, happy memories attached. Sometimes I really wish that we could go back to that first little house, but so much has changed, and we don't have Papa anymore. That puts a touch of sadness to some of the memories. Though it wasn't the first house that David lived in on his own, it was mine, and it will always hold special memories for me and bring a smile when I think of it.