<P><FONT face=arial>While on vacation to a family reunion, my dad took me to his childhood home, and I snapped a quick picture. My journaling pretty much tells the story.</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Techniques: Photo changed to black and white using Adobe Photoshop. Additional pictures printed in black and white on colored cardstock. Journaling is hidden behind the main picture.</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Products used:</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Chatterbox- patterned papers - Reading Room collection</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Making Memories rub ons - Heidi and Providence fonts, black brads, and label holder.</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Heidi Swapp - ghost letters- clear, phot corners</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Offray ribbon</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Prima flower</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial>Nostalgiques decorative paper&nbsp;clip</FONT></P><P><FONT face=Arial></FONT>&nbsp;</P><P><FONT face=Arial>Journaling reads:</FONT></P><P class=MsoNormal>From the outside, it looked like any other normal house, white with blue shutters, with a garage and a yard for children to play in.</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>This house tells a story, the story of a home that wasn’t meant to be.</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>This story could be anyone’s but it’s my fathers, a history that I never really knew about until today. You see this was my dad’s childhood home, a home that wasn’t meant to be. I don’t know the whole story and I am not sure I ever will, it was a very sad time in his life, and he isn’t one to share feelings.</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>From what I know he lived in this house as a child with his parents, and 2 of his brothers. When my father was 2 his father died of a ruptured appendix. Life was tough for them, his Mom had 3 boys to raise, and was doing her best, by working double shifts at a glass manufacturing plant. It would only be a few years later that his life would be filled with tragedy again. His mother was diagnosed with stomach cancer, and it was serious. She knew she was going to die, and she made a very difficult decision. She decided that upon her passing her sons would go to live at the Milton Hershey School for Boys, which at the time was a home for orphaned boys It wasn’t long before her life would be cut short, she died when my dad was 7.He had to leave this home, and move across the state, to a strange new place. </P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>He should have grown up in that house, should have eaten dinner in that kitchen, and should have played with his siblings in that back yard.</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>My father almost never speaks of his childhood; I think it is just too painful for him. I would have never known about this house, if we weren’t up visiting with our extended family. We had a family reunion to go to. Maybe it was just a sense of family, or his knowledge that I have been scrapbooking, but he drove me to the house and showed it to me. We paused briefly, took a picture, and then drove off. Silently I sat in the truck, thinking not only how hard his life has been, but truly how hard it was for him to show me this house. </P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;</P><P class=MsoNormal>&nbsp;It is someone else’s house now, and for my dad it is only a memory. For me it is a part of my history, and I am glad he was able to share part of it with me.</P><P>&nbsp;</P>