Until my mid-teens I hadn’t lived in one house for more than I year. Though I’ve now been living in this house the longest, and my family thinks of it as home since we pay mortgage on it, I’ve always felt that my earlier houses were home. The “Yellow House” wasn’t one of those. I lived there before I entered school so my memory of the pale yellow house fuzzy, but almost all of my memories in that house took place upstairs in the converted attic where my siblings and I had our rooms. The house was very large and a lot of the upstairs was still undeveloped, filled with closed off areas and dark closets hidden around corners and…