When I was young and an only child, I spent many summers and school vacations with my great-grandparents. They lived in, what was to me, a magical house full of things to distract, entertain, and amuse. There was an attic full of boxes, each filled with a treasure waiting for me to discover. Exotic hats, dresses by the dozens, old dolls and even a wood burning kit not fit for anyone that didn't have heavy leather gloves and a full face mask that I loved to play with. It had a screened in porch, covered in ivy and a back yard full of climbable trees and wild rhubarb to dig up. At night, I went to sleep to the sounds of trains in the distance and awoke each morning to chirping birds when I slept upstairs in what they called a sleeping porch. My Grandmother taught me to knit, play ca...

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