Memory Lane

I was a few minutes early to drop my car off at the body shop this morning, so I drove around to the street I lived on from first grade to fourth grade.  The neighborhood is nicer now than when I lived there.  Someone has put up a railing around the front porch; that’s good, because I broke my left arm falling off that front porch and onto our woodpile.

I remember…

…my KISS Army poster that hung beside my bed.

…sharing a room with my little brother and how his breathing at night sounded like Darth Vader.

…eating sugary cereal at the neighbor’s house when my mom wouldn’t let us have any at home.

…my black cat.

…finding out that Santa wasn’t real and being so disappointed.

…getting a Farrah Fawcett styling head for Christmas with this weird shiny oily eye shadow.

…soaking in the deep claw-foot bathtub, the earliest beginnings of my love of soaking in the tub nearly every day.

…a birthday cake with plastic amusement park rides on it, very possibly the coolest cake ever.

I wonder if a kid still sleeps in my room.  I wonder if that kid likes music and books and pets.  I wonder how many kids have grown up there, and if they ever drive by.  I hope they grow up and embrace the things they love, not what their parents or peers want them to do or be.  I hope they are happy and loved, for that’s at the core of everything…the quest for happiness and love drives us to do some dumb things and some amazing things, too.


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