A rickety screen door teetered on rusty hinges as I pulled it open and stepped into the tiny ante-space that introduced the kitchen. I paused, allowing my eyes to adjust to the dim light as I inhaled the musty scent of things old. In the quiet, I waited for the space to speak. Who knew what had lain settled in memory’s crevices for more than half a century? Time warped as I stepped into the kitchen and looked around, surprised. It was a miniature version of the space that, moments earlier, I’d have sworn was a large farmhouse kitchen. Contradictory