Yarmouth, Maine is a small town in Southern Maine not far from the city of Portland. My family moved to Yarmouth when I was seven years old and had just started second grade in Cumberland where we had lived since I was born. It was a change which my older brother and sister and I felt the most.
Leaving close friends and neighbors to move to a brand new place we had never heard of was a little scary for me and my brother, but much worse for my sister who had just started high school. My parents spent days and nights listening to my sister complain. She even refused to move and tried, I can imagine, to find a friend who would take her in. No luck. Soon the hated day came and we all moved to a Victorian house built in the 1930's that was cold in the winter and hot in the summer, at least in the upstairs bedrooms where we all slept.
But we loved it. The house came with a beautiful yard where we could play, summer and winter. Behind the house the land sloped downhill and provided a wonderful place to go sledding. It was the most fun we'd had in years. In the summer, since we were near to downtown, we were free to walk to the library, go exploring, and just plain have fun. My mother never had to worry about what we were doing or where we were going.
Life in a small town in the 1950's was magical and carefree with none of the worries we have today.
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