From 6th grade till 10th grade my family lived in Centreville-Clifton, Virginia. Our mailing address said Clifton, but we went to Centreville High School, and went to the Centreville church. For all intents and purposes, we lived in Centreville, and only the mailman disagreed. Centreville was where all the new homes were being built. When we moved out there to the country there was only 1 Braddock Road (there are too many to count now), and where 28 and 29 intersect was a simple stoplight of an intersection (not an entire cloverleaf overpass intersection). Centreville was a booming suburb, with yuppies flocking to it as fast as they could.
But just down the road from our little suburban world was the sleepy little town of Clifton. Inside the formal town limits of Clifton there were magical mansions, with gated driveways, palaces with 17 fireplaces, rolling fields and hills, horse country farms, and the cutest, quaintest little Main St in all of Northern Virginia.
I didn't get any pictures of the pretty mansions down in Clifton town.
But I did get a few pictures of the place I love the most-
I knocked on the door and asked if I could take some pictures from the outside. The woman recognized my name and said she bought it from my parents 20 years ago! She invited me in and showed me around my childhood home. I cried. The vaulted ceilings are still beautiful, but not the miles high I remember them. The evil bathroom counter that cut my eye still has a sharp edge on it. The little nail holes, where my mom nailed the downstairs windows shut after my baby brother took a header out a window, are painted over, but I could still feel them.The floors are different, the furniture has changed, but it was still the setting of all my memories.
This is my childhood home.
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