When I was a little kid, I grew up in a town where we knew all of our neighbours and they all watched out for each other and each other's kids. We were in and out of all of their yards and houses as much as our own. Whether they liked it or not. LOL.

The street we lived on was lined with tiny houses. Most of the yards were filled with all manner of fruit trees - some had the odd goat...

My room was small and had green shag carpeting. Brilliant for hiding gum in. It also had a stairway up to the attic accessed through my closet - which also incidentally had a spy hole into the linen closet and when the door was open you could see into the upstairs hallway. Fantastic for tormenting my brother. It had a kitchen at the back of the house and a back porch with a huge yard. My best friend lived two blocks away.

When I was 9 we moved to a town closer to where my father worked - into a new survey filled with HUGE houses. It looked like a dollhouse and my parents were promising a pool. Behind our house ran a walking trail that led to a beautiful park with a trickling stream. The town itself was small and filled with old houses and historical buildings. It was picturesque to say the least. But for many years I missed my old house with its quirkiness and my friends nearby. Eventually though, I came to love it and made new friends. Eventually it too became my home.

It's funny, when you drive by the places from your memories. I've been past both of my old homes in the past two weeks. Both times the houses looked old and less "loved" than I remember. It was like after our family left they were inherited by people who treated them as houses instead of homes. They cut down the fruit trees (bees you know) and killed the Japanese Maple. Sad really.

I keep thinking that one day I might knock on the door and ask if I can look around. Might freak them out though. Maybe I'll pretend to be a Jehovah's witness and ask if I can come into to discuss the meaning of life over a cup of tea (or tequila?) and snoop around. I wonder if the blue stain is still on the cement floor behind the furnace from the food coloring I stole when I was 6 - or if they even know about the secret passageway in the back porch... maybe I could hide in it and scare the crap out of them? Or hide something really creepy in it like a bunch of half rotten taxidermied animals dressed like little clowns. (Okay, where did THAT come from. That's disturbed).





Maybe just this... or like... an army of them...

This post went sideways from sentimental in a hurry... lol.