The first part of my growing up occurred in a tiny white house on Laundale Avenue in Waukesha, Wisconsin. 

I lived there until I was almost eight, and all of my notions of home can be traced right back to its walls and windows and little narrow staircase. In my memory it is bigger on the inside than it is on the outside. The backyard stretches out for acres, and the wood paneled living room is warm and cozy. There’s the sound of a crackling fire, even though there is no fire place, and there’s always snow outside the windows, even in the summer.

– David Lowery