The robins on the windowsill
When I was a kid, from 1st grade to 5th, we lived in the upstairs apartment of an old carriage house at the edge of a Long Island estate. Oh, how I'd love to have such a place now! But this isn't about the charms of that old home. This is about the robins. From the window of our bathroom at the end of the house, we looked towards the neighbors who occupied another converted carriage house. Our landlady lived there with her husband who was a mysterious fellow who rarely spoke, and was supposed to... Sign in to see full entry.