“mama said home is where the heart is..”
some people love where they grew up, and some people hate it. I’m one of those who love it. not specifically the state, or even the town, but the street. that’s where I grew up, where I learned to ride a bike, where I learned the hard work of shoveling snow, where I met my best friend, where I chased countless basketballs down the street, where sled runs were made, spy adventures took place, chalk roads were drawn for us to ride our bikes on, snow “igloos” were formed, along with late night conversations, where we played barefoot for hours until our feet turned black. memories were made on that small little cul-de-sac and they are the most precious thing in my heart. my parents bought the home we live in now, right before I was born. twenty one years they’ve made this house a home. up until I was about seven years old every house was occupied by an elderly couple, or no one at all. one summer a family moved in two doors away there was two kids from what I could tell, I didn’t care about their ages I just wanted there to be children. before I knew it we spent most days together, the little girl was two (almost three) and the boy was five. it was playing dolls with her, and spies with him. as we got older both them, and my brothers and I always remained close. especially her and I, despite the age difference she’s the closet person to me and it will always remain that way. we had sleepovers and camp fires, scary movie nights, rode our bikes into town to get ice cream, played in the wash near our house, had water fights, and snow ball fights. there was teasing and nicknames, and lots of night time hide and seek. some of those times I will never forget. now even though we are older and there’s cars, jobs, school, college, and all the boring stuff we will still always be there for each other. its funny how fast time really does fly by. I think there will always be an ache in my heart when I think about not being able to go back to those fun innocent times.
rewind a little but to about six years ago, another family moved in, two more doors over. another family that is near and dear to my heart, now their story is a long one, I’m sure one day I’ll write about it. but they go way back with my family, they are family. they have four kids and those kids will be the most loved kids in this family until me and my brothers have our own one day, even then I think they will have that “first grandchildren” sort of feel to my parents. and that is perfectly okay with me. today I was watching them play in the same street I love so much. riding their scooters on a chalk road I drew for them. looking at their innocence and praying they hold onto that as long as they can. I’m so happy we were able to grow up on the same street, it’s a magical place.