Take a minute today to think about your own “spaghetti sauce” smell or your “creaky third step.” It doesn’t have to be a grand house. It might be a tiny apartment, a trailer, or a room you shared with siblings. The size doesn’t matter. What matters is that somewhere in that space, a younger version of you was figuring out how to be a person.
And honestly, that’s the best kind of architecture there is. So here’s to the houses we grew up in—chaotic, worn, and deeply loved. Even if the new owners fixed the squeak, you still know where the secret is.
