When I was a little girl, we once lived in a big white Victorian style house with a wrap-around porch and inside, a huge staircase.  At least it seemed huge to me at the time. We rented one side of the house from Mrs. Blevins, a really nice rich old lonely lady who loved for us to come and visit.  I remember her serving us warm rice with butter and honey and a little cream.  Her husband had died a few years earlier, and she rarely had company so we became somewhat like her family.  I loved that big old house and I loved the big porch, my family and Mrs. Blevins.  However, there were times when I felt sad or lonely and there were times when I didn’t want to talk to my family or Mrs. Blevins.  I just wanted to be alone all by myself  just to think my little…