G’bye, Childhood (house edition)
As I crawl through my 33rd year on this or any other planet, many things will happen to secure not only adulthood, but the death of my childhood (which has been on life-support for about 22 years).
One of the biggest blows to my childhood will be the sale of my parents’ house, the only home I ever knew and the only place I’ve ever celebrated Christmas. On our recent trip back, I paused to bid farewell in a dignified and noble fashion.
A fond hello, as I do on any run-of-the-mill visit home.
I arrive at the doorway, dignified and poised.
Good ol’ hallway. I’d run down this way as a boy to see what Santa left me. Back when we actually had Christmas in this house that is.
The family room, where I’ve posed for many a frozen memory (i.e. photo). I’ve still got that smile.
Our 1982 edition of the 24-volume non-computer internet. I looked up a lot of dinosaurs as a boy…
…and would read about them here, in the living room. Oh, the memories will last forever and that’s just as good as keeping the house.
One more refreshing drink, for old time’s sake. My first pop came from this kitchen. Seems fitting that this should be the last one, even if I did happily spit it on the ground a minute later.
Be true to your teeth, or they’ll be false to you. But no matter how hard you brush, it will never get rid of taste of betrayal or the feeling that something is killing your happiest memories just so they can live closer to work and grandkids.
A home full of music is never sad—see!
A little down time is always a nice pick-me-up. Look: the funniest movie in the world is on. You can tell by the twinkle in my eye.
In my room, I look for just the right pants before everything is given to Goodwill. These will do nicely.
A quick game of hoops, just like I did every summer of my happy, joy-filled life. Of course this is not like those times. It’s winter and I’m not using a ball because it’s been packed away for moving and/or destroyed.
I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane as much as I clearly did.
