Monday, July 20, 2009


When we were kids we lived next the service plaza on the turnpike. The one with the gas station and the Burger King. On the road into the back side of the plaza were these raspberry bushes and we always went down with containers to pick them. They were the sweetest berries around. I remember one day I was around 10 years old and I was skipping down the road with my container of berries in hand. I tripped and fell on the tar. I wasn't upset about my skun knee but I was devastated I had dropped all my raspberries.

I don't know why I thought about those raspberries the other day but I told my father that I wondered if they were still growing there. Seth and I decided to take a drive out and see. Of course they were still there!! There weren't as many as I remember but they tasted just as sweet.

We decided to take a stroll past my old house. My parents lived in the house for about 25 years. Maybe a little more. I spent 21 of my years there and have so many wonderful memories. I think of the house often and wonder what it is like inside. A few times a year I will take a detour home just to drive by.

I did pretty good until we were right in front of the house and then I started crying. I don't really know why. Just nostalgia I guess. I thought of my mother out by the pool. My father tinkering with a car in the garage. A cemetery of pets in the back corner of the field. Remnants of my tree house were still there. My swing set was gone. The landscaping is different. But the smell of the country air is exactly the same.

This is the field where the dogs and cats rest. Where the iris' grow that we would pick for Mummy. Where Mummy loved to go snowshoeing.
Taken before I got teary. Yeah, I used to live there.

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