The House

The immaculate white walls of Mrs. Andersen’s four-story townhouse is my first memory.

Mom must have taken me there in her blue Beetle, and the car’s rear mounted air-cooled boxer engine must have made its distinct puffing sound all the way.

Also, I must have gotten out of the car, and mom must have rung the doorbell, witch must have caused Mrs. Andersen to get up from her rocking chair, walk down the hallway, open the door and smile.

But that's deduction.

Only thing I truly remember is the incredible whiteness of those walls.

Before the red stains.