A child remembers an old house that she has not lived in for a long time. The house she remembers is huge, with a garden in front with a tree giving shade, grass as green as moss. The inside is spacious, she remembers pedalling on a trike in the living room where she was not supposed to do that. The rooms are large, with beds with legs high enough so she could hide under them. The bathrooms are almost ostentations with bathroom vanities that contained fluffy towels and robes. The backyard is host to fruit trees so large and sturdy her older brother could spend the whole day perched on each of them in turn. There is a smaller house on one side of the back lot, where their nannies would spend mornings doing the laundry, lazy afternoons for siesta, and early evenings making dinner for the big house.
The house still stands and as she looks at it now that she has grown old she can still see the old house, misty but great beyond the worn and rusty ceilings and roofs. She wishes she can bring it all back again.