Last night, while asleep, I went to a place I have never been. It was a rather contemporary house, a bit big for one person. It had a large green lawn. The inside was well furnished and everything was in its place, as if the one owner, which I think was me, lived alone and may have been a little OCD. Maybe I was still running missions, or my superstition about leaving my room clean before missions had expanded to an entire home. My brother and sister were there, but it was pretty clear that they were visiting.
I was reading a book about my life, things I had forgotten, and maybe some things I missed. I came across a picture of my Mom standing with my sister, as a small child, on a brick patio in front of a small house. I had to find my sister to confirm the thought that it was taken in front of my grandmother’s home, a place I have not seen for decades, more than I will admit to, just in case I decide to start lying about my age, again, one day.
I’m not one to spend much time looking back, or looking forward for that matter. I’m not much for questioning decisions I have made, or that I have been given the illusion of making, as if any of this is real. However, I miss that small house. I miss sitting outside and listening to the grown ups talk as the sun set, I miss looking up at the street light as the flying insects started to gather, and walking to the Magic Market on hot days to get slurpee drinks. And, I miss the closeness of family while there.
That was a long time ago. It was a good melancholy memory of a place and time long gone.
Sure wish I had that book.
Thanks for stopping by.
Monday, February 2, 2015