Saturday, July 28, 2012

Time Traveler

When I travel back to the town I grew up, I always seem to carry a mix bag of emotions. The street where my old house stands is no longer the same. The houses look smaller somehow, the street seems foreign. But I can still see the crack in the sidewalk where I recall falling and skinning my knee and I can still find the best hide and seek spots from the road. It feels like a weird dream, when you awake and you are not sure if that really happened or whose life that was. I drive by boarded up buildings and tell the boys that is where I used to get pixie sticks for a penny or buy bubble gum ice cream after a softball game. I drive by old friend's houses, they have long since moved and some stranger is sitting on the steps we used to climb. I take Cole past St. Mary's School where I went to Kindergarten through 6th grade, the school is boarded up and the playground is non-existent, the grass is overgrown. If it were not for a faded, ivy covered sign, I would wonder if I fabricated this place in my mind. I look at the faces in people I pass on the streets in hopes of some vague recognition of who they are, but they are strangers. This is not my home anymore.

My childhood friends, cracks in sidewalks and visions of places that once held such magical allure help hold the memory in some special place in my heart. The nostalgia of driving through my home town will probably never completely subside, it holds too many treasured moments tucked away in hidden pockets that hopefully will never wear away.

Love & Light,

Stacy


 This is the street corner Brian's parents live on.





I know my boys will have fond memories of their Grandparent's home.


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