The end of that summer had come.
My parents found a house for us on Verona Island - across the river from Bucksport and just around the corner from the old Waldo Hancock Bridge (I miss that bridge). It was a nice house - 2 full stories, plus a huge attic, garage, shed, and big backyard. It was right near a boatlanding, which had a pleasant park where we could stroll down near the water.
I seem to remember that my uncle and aunt were already at the house the first time I saw it. My uncle said matter-of-factly, "You've got fleas." Sure enough, the living room carpet was crawling with biting fleas. That was the only room with carpeting, so the rest of the house was bearable.
That house was huge! There was a big basement (which I never liked), and on the first floor, there was a big kitchen, dining room, living room (with a window seat!), a laundry room, and the bathroom. The hallway had a big front door (which we rarely used) and windows that looked toward the boatlanding, and also the stairway with a banister. The hallway was bigger than the bathroom!
The second floor held 2 big bedrooms, which faced the road and river, 2 smaller rooms, plus a third room over the kitchen entrance way - and also there was another big hallway with more stairs. The attic was one of my favorite places. There was plenty of room for storage, besides playing games or reading or having a slumber party.
I chose the front corner bedroom that looked toward the road and river. Over the following 2 years that I was still home, we switched rooms several times. Anytime we were sleeping in the attic, we had to go down two flights of stairs to reach the bathroom, which was off the kitchen.
We had to go back to Canaan to retrieve our belonging being stored there. While we were there, Buddy ran off, and we found out later that he had been hit by a car. It was a sad time, yet it was part of the change to a new beginning, a new chapter of our lives.
Next time, I will tell of my adventures during my senior year of high school.
(so many memories . . . )