Wednesday, February 28, 2007

My Tricycle

Yes, this is me on my tricycle. I think I was about 3 years old and even then I had short legs and a flirty attitude. But this picture brings back a flood of memories. This is the first house I remember living in. I remember Frances, the older girl from next door, Buddy the boy across the street who was about my age, the corner grocery store, the walk to the bus, the window over the kitchen sink, the hallway from the bedroom where I would hide after being put to bed so I could listen to the radio from the living room.

About 15 years ago I was in Dallas on business but had finished up early one afternoon and decided that I would try to find the house. I had the address from some old papers that belonged to my parents. I found the street and when I drove down the street I didn't even have to confirm the address number, there was the was the same. It was still painted white and while some of the other houses now had trees grown big over the houses, this house didn't and the shrubs around the house were low, the backyard still wasn't enclosed with a fence. The one car frame garage was still at the back of the house. I drove around the block a couple of times just looking but then decided to stop and see if any one was home. I didn't think about what I'd say if someone came to the door but I felt compelled to stop

I walked up the sidewalk, the same sidewalk in this picture and knocked on the door. An elderly man came to the door. I told him that I had lived in the house when I was a little girl. He told me how long he and his wife had lived in the house and invited me in. His wife had gone across the backyard to see about a neighbor and he called and asked her to come home. Inside the house I was overwhelmed. The house was the same, exactly the same as I remembered it except the walls were different colors. It hadn't been enlarged or changed. Just lived in. I talked with the man and his wife. About a year after Mom and Dad sold the house they bought it from the second owners and had lived there ever since. They had raised two daughters in the house and those two daughters were about the same age as my sister and me.

I didn't stay and visit very long because I was so overwhelmed with my memories. It was like I had stepped back into my past.


Anonymous said...

What a nice story!

pitchertaker said...

I don't know the reason, or what the drawing power is other than just the flood of pleasant memories that surface everytime we visit the house in Austin where Ellen and I were living when our daughter was born 25 years ago. We were in Austin this past weekend, and as always, we went by the house yet again. We parked on the curb and scrutinized the house and yard to see if any changes have been made. Sure enough, this time, the large tree in the front yard is gone, but replace by a new planting. The house looked naked.