Several months ago my parents realized that they weren't getting any younger and would prefer a smaller yard and a house with fewer steps. So they started looking around and found a house they liked and bought it. That was followed by putting there house up for sale. In less than a week of it being listed, my parents had an offer and closed on it in less than a month (who says the market is getting soft?).
We moved into that house when I was 5, maybe 6. Loading up the moving van, I was flooded with memories. I know it was bound to happen but it is kind a weird when it does happen.
Not long after my wife and I were engaged, I drove her by the area of where the first house I remember living in was. I lived there from when I was 2 until I was 5 or 6. It is now a parking lot for a strip mall. I couldn't show her where the swingset used to be or where I learned to ride a bike.
When we moved into my parents' last house the people that had built it were constantly driving by to see what we were doing to "their" house. They would slow down almost to a stop in front of our house, turn around and drive real slow past it again. They did this until several years ago when they moved a couple of states away. I now know how they felt... I just won't stop in the middle of the road.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment