Changes ....

It happens every time I go back home,things change. I visit with my
parents at their house. It's not my home any more. Granted many things are
the same but its not my place any more. The neighbor hood has changed and
there are new store fronts have come and gone. I almost feel like a
stranger in a strange land. The houses are all the same but all the people
I have known are gone. Things seem smaller. The park across from my house
used to seem grand and to take for every to walk across now seems small.
The creek behind my parents place was always a bit dirty as creeks go but
now seems choked with plastic bags and litter. The yards connected to the
houses that I knew seem so small. I know I am living in deep suburbia now
but then they seemed a nice size when I was there.
I sat outside their house and smoked a cigarette and listened. I
watched the kids run by smiling and playing. Riding their bikes and
dreaming kid dreams. I hope they can look back and enjoy where they are.
Innocence never lasts.
I went one step further and visited the apartment I grew up in. Well
not inside just the building. That was 100 years ago. I left that building
when I was in the fourth grade. Memories are what you make of them. Things
seem cleaner brighter bigger and thats OK as long as you remember the old
addage.... You can't go home again. Keep your memories intact. I guess
the better one may be ... Home is where you hang your hat.