I still appreciate the sense of arrival to 321 Atherton Street, the circle out front, the width of the entry hall stairs, the intricate staircase balusters, like no other I’ve seen, then or since. Set on 5.5 acres with a vast lawn, a greenhouse, and wooded screening, we could chase the butterflies, the fireflies and each other. I always felt secure, something that brick seems to convey I now realize. With a dining room big enough for us all and later for friends, spouses and grandchildren. With 7 bedrooms and 4.5 bathrooms plus a guest house, there’s plenty of room. There must be a cook ready to appreciate the fabulous renovated kitchen, its every detail just perfect with the centerpiece Lacanche range, SubZero refrigerators, and an island where meals are prepared and lingered over. If I close my eyes, we are still there, leaning over the terrace railing, watching my friends in their smudged with clay tennis whites, belly laughing at forehand shots gone long. It is here where home is not just a place but a feeling that lasts in memory. How lucky I was. How lucky the next.