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Journaling: This white mailbox marks the end of the road where I grew up - the last stop on New Hope Drive and it was home. I lived at the end of this road for my entire childhood.

Many advantages come from living at the end of a private street. Our front yard knew no property lines - we could play in the street without any threat from traffic. It was always quiet in our neighborhood. In the winter, the city would not plow our streets and the drifts would pile up so high we could often not get out of driveway. We were sometimes snowed in for days.

There were some disadvantages, too. Curious sightseers would drive to the end of our street and use our circular driveway to turn around. It used to make my parents crazy. Sometimes the secluded spot was ideal for couples to park a car and steam up the windows. And on a few occasions, a rest home resident would escape from Fort Street and wander down our lane.

But mostly it was quiet and calm. It was the perfect place for my parents to raise four children.

At the end of the road, we were safe. We were happy. We were free. We were home.


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