In their book, “Writing Life Stories”, Bill Roorbach and Kristen Keckler, PhD, encourage readers to take a stroll through the corridors of their childhood memories.

I continue to work through the book, but to say it’s been an eye opening experience is an understatement.

In an attempt to document some of my memories, Brian and I recently took the opportunity to visit my hometown, Spartanburg, SC. You’re invited to stroll along with us over the next few days. Perhaps you’ll be encouraged to begin journaling your own childhood memories?


We drove straight past the first house I lived in as a child. It was unrecognizable to me. Although the front door is original, the now dirt-covered driveway was once a cool shade of green filled with sour grass.

Memories created here on Oakleaf Drive include:

  • My purple bedroom in the back corner of the house with two corner windows overlooking the backyard.
  • The Easter egg I hid in my room…and forgot about until summer.
  • Spilling fingernail polish remover on my mom’s once beautiful dresser. My first encounter with grace. (Thanks, Mom.)
  • The place where my parents parted ways.
  • Wild pink roses sprawled along the back fence (the same type rose now sprawls in my own yard)
  • Playing with my first dog, Tracks, in the backyard.
  • My favorite “secret” place, located in a small area tucked between our house, a low retaining wall, and the neighbor’s shrubbery. Occasionally the neighbor’s wife would poke her head out the side door to say hello, but more often than not she allowed the little girl to play alone with her imagination.
  • Splashing in the basement water. (You mean every child didn’t have their own “pool” in the basement?)
  • Our single, lonely, and very quiet neighbor across the street who came home from lunch one day and committed suicide. Little did she know that her choice would linger in my corridors for forty years.

What childhood memories rattle within your corridors?

I encourage you to join in the journey.