You have heard the old saying that you can never go back? Well, I found this out when I recently went back to the small town where I grew up and revisited the old homesteads. My brother and I took a walk around the neighborhood where we lived as children and it was a sad sight to see. Maybe memories are the best...what we have stored in our heads. Seeing the real thing was really depressing. Now keep in mind that it has been 50 years since I lived there so of course there will be changes. There were houses on the street that were well kept as if they were new but my grandparents house (above) was falling down. I remember all the wonderful times that I had on this front porch. I was able to walk the one block and visit almost every day. My Grandfather built this house himself. So sad to see what a ruin it is now
Didn't even have the heart to take a picture of my parent's house....my childhood home. This is the gate. My Dad made it. It was always kept closed as there was a private patio area behind it. The garage is in the background....don't get the corn growing there.
Anyway, thanks to my brother, Jim, for making the journey with me. I just hope that my Mom and Dad can't look down from heaven and see what it all looks like now.
No comments:
Post a Comment