When you’re back where you grew up, do you go see the places where you used to live? I guess I’m just the curious type… I like seeing what the ‘new people’ have done to the place. Are they keeping up with the yard work? Did they paint the house a new color?
As I continue my time here in Phoenix, I took a drive today to see the house where I grew up… I didn’t live there a terribly long time, but I did a lot of growing up there. It’s where we had our wedding rehearsal dinner and countless other family gatherings. It’s also the house that I brought my kids to for many years to see gramma and papa… it’s where I taught them to swim & dive. It’s the house where we would sit on the roof to watch fireworks on the 4th of July. It was the last place my mother lived.
I wonder if the current owners were ever curious about the previous residents… is there any way for them to sense all of ‘living’ that went on within those walls… the good times, the challenges, the laughter, and the tears. I’ve often thought about writting them a letter about our family and our time in and around that house… but I just as quickly squash the idea as silly, or self-indulgent… or something. After all, it’s just the place where I grew up, right?