Home was, still is, a rusty old trailer stuck on the face of a mountain in Deep Water, in the heart of Fayette County. It looked to me, the first time, like a toy that God had been playing with and accidentally dropped out of heaven. Down and down and down it came and landed, thunk, on this mountain, sort of cockeyed and shaky and grateful to be all in one piece. Well sort of one piece.
I generated the following paragraph using Rylant’s words as my model:
Home was, still is, a sprawling brick ranch pushed back from the road, half-way down Parker Street. It looked to me, the first time, like mismatched shoe boxes pushed together to form an “L” . I figured it had been added on to at least three different times, given that each of the three sections of the house had slightly different kinds of bricks.