Last week I was staring at an empty yard for the first time in over 25 years. I was in a whirlwind of emotions. I didn't know whether to cry, smile or just blankly stare at what I once knew as home.
The yard that my brother, neighborhood friends and I once played in while being chased by my broom wielding, great aunt Helen for getting too close to her flowers, is empty. It once held multiple flower beds, a house that had been in the family for decades and just had that pleasant, rural Alabama feel to it. I never imagined the day that none of it would exist. I guess it's the innocence of childhood that led me to believe that. As an adult you grow to accept that everything will eventually run it's course. Talk about a tough pill to swallow.
Looking back, we had so many good memories. We jumped off roofs onto a pile of mats while imitating the Macho Man Randy Savage, played football, hit golf balls into the woods and even learned that close combat paintball wars hurt like hell. Those were times we'll never forget. I could go on and on, but this isn't a novel.
We grew apart from those friends as time went by and the yard that held those memories became a place of growth. What once held bikes, now held cars and a new sense of freedom. The break ups and tough, real life conversations took place of the innocent video game and sports talk.
Sharing the property with my grandparents always made me happy. We had a special bond. Nana and Pop always looked out for me. Up until her passing, my Nana would always come to her door to ensure my brother and I had made it home safely. It took me forever to stop looking for her at the door after she was gone. Their house was a place to run to when my parents and I would have our issues. My relationship with my parents was always rocky and inconsistent. That's another blog for another day. But, my grandparents never wavered regardless of how much of a hellion I was.
Adulthood rolled around and I said goodbye to the place that held those memories. I still went to visit my parents and grandad. When I did, I would often look around and remember the sounds and sights of my childhood. It was a relief from the busy life that I've come to know.
Two of the three houses that once filled the property are no longer standing. The trees, flower beds and yard decorations are all gone. All that's left is my grandad's house. While it is sad to see my childhood gone, I'm relieved to see all of the bad memories go with it. I'm thankful for those times and always will be. There will come a day that my Pop is gone and I will no longer have a reason to go to the property. It was home. Home was happy and home was hell. It made me who I am and I'll never forget it.
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