A place I once called home

It seemed much smaller than I remembered. It was also dark and quiet. I don't remember ever being there after dark. No, that late at night I was safely tucked away in my bed. It was weird. I was standing there and it suddenly hit me- this is a part of my childhood.

Here's where I first learned how to ride a bike, and scraped my knees. Here's where we would throw stuff on top of the garage, and then climb up to get it. Here's where we played cops and robbers, around the house, tap to freedom, and all our other childish games. A mimsies a clappsies, r-a-t-t-l-e spells rattle snake. Here's where we played ball. Here's where I fought with my friends, and pulled her hair, and had mine yanked in return. Here's where I laughed, and cried, and got scared.

I remember when a scary neighbor kid threatened to come beat us up, and we all ran into our houses and locked the door. Even the older kids. And it was during the day. I remember when my older sister and her friends would come join us in our games, and how special that made me feel, like we were validated somehow, because the big kids were giving us attention.

Here's where my brothers built an igloo, and scared the neighbors. Here's where my sister broke 3 fingers while playing ball. Here's where we pulled off the tape from the neighbor's hopscotch, and got bullied by them and all their 70 cousins. Here's where we threw water balloons, played elimination, stepped on nails and thought I got metal poisoning in my foot. Here's where we played squash sardines.

Here's where I grew up. It's dark out, but in my minds eye I can see the ghosts of the past. I see the little girl I used to be running, and playing, and enjoying life as a 5 year old. I thought I lost her. I thought I grew up and she was gone forever. But no, she was right here all along, waiting to be remembered, waiting for me to take a trip down memory lane.

The house I used to live in, and where I spent my main growing up years as a child is no longer there. Our house was old and broken down and crappy. In it's place stands a beautiful mansion. It's not my house, no, cuz my house held memories, but these walls are cold. The tree where I used to climb is gone. We would sit up in the branches and spy on people. We could see all the way to the corner.

We would dig in my front garden. One year when it snowed we dug a tunnel in the snow. We planted apple seeds, thinking they would grow into an apple tree, but they never did. Oh how young and naive we were.

My front steps where I stood erev sukkos, all fresh and clean, and dressed in my new yom tov clothing, that's gone forever. The ugly red stairs going up to my house, which always had peeling paint, that's gone too. The house, the place that held so many memories, it doesn't exist anymore. And it makes me sad.

But as I stand here in my old backyard, and I am suddenly flooded with memories, I know it will never really be gone. I thought I forgot. I thought I moved on. But you can't move on from a part of your life, the very most important part, the beginning.

I wonder if my old neighbors remember everything like I do. Or if they even care. I wish I had someone to reminisce with, someone who was there with me. But they are all grown up. I don't even know them anymore. But we shared a childhood, and that can never be erased.

I left. The backyard doesn't look like I remembered it. It's much smaller. Or maybe it just seemed so much bigger to a small child of 5. But either way, now I know. I know I'll never forget it. Cuz all my memories are in a place where I can return to whenever I want. In my heart.

Goodbye backyard. Thanks for reminding me of the good times.