Monday, June 14, 2010


I went on a road trip this past weekend.  I went home.  Imagine my surprise when I found myself wishing I could now go back and live in the little town I could not wait to get out of as a kid.  Everyone keeps telling me, "There's a perfectly good house sitting there empty, and I bet the owners would give you a good deal."  

For years I have wanted to knock on the door of the old house where I lived from birth to age eight when we moved to make it easier on my dad to go to work.  He worked in the oil fields and was making a pretty long commute everyday, so we packed up and went with him.  By this time I had a baby brother who I loved and adored.  So, this time, I did it.  I just walked up and knocked on the door and asked, "Do you mind if I take a few pictures just of the outside of this house?  It's where I was born."  And the granddaughter of the owner, after conferring with her ill grandmother, said, "Yes, that would be fine!  Just be careful of the dog out back...he's friendly but he has sharp nails."  

I really had no intentions of getting close enough to the dog to find out about his nails.  He did not act particularly friendly when he saw me approaching the back yard, and my heart beat a little faster when he started toward me, until I realized he was securely chained up.

I have to admit, the back yard seemed HUGE when I was little, but it seemed very tiny when I was looking at it.  A lot had changed and I found myself thinking about how much my life and my world really have changed in fifty-three short years.  I would venture to say that things have changed a minimum of one-hundred-six times, usually for the better, sometimes not, but as I looked at the little house, only the good memories poured out of my heart where they were stored and into my brain so I could think on them awhile.

We went to the heart of the matter, too, downtown, to take some shots of the courthouse, and while there we saw a window display that just screamed Small Town Midwest USA.  You can see in the reflection a gazebo.  That is where every year I would parade around to be judged on my Halloween costume.  Mom would work tirelessly to put together something she thought would win, and I never won.  The only reason I liked it was that everyone got a lot of candy for participating.
You really can go home again.  And sometimes you never ever want to leave. 

1 comment:

Magpie said...

Maybe if all of us that are homesick for that small town moved back, there would be a building boom and upswing in the economy...or maybe not. Lovely memories and pictures.