I miss yesterday. But not the way you’re probably thinking. This isn’t the ramblings of someone living in the “glory days”. There is little glory to re-live in my younger life. I didn’t play sports, sing, act, etc. I wasn’t popular or in the “in” crowd. In fact, kind of, quite the opposite.
As I sit here typing on my BlackBerry Z10 I’m thinking about the simpler life of yesterday.
I miss sleeping bags and pallets filled with cousins or friends laid out across the empty spaces on the floor.
I miss neighborly activities. Homemade mac and cheese ( and NO not the kind of homemade that comes from a box, but the real deal, made with REAL cheddar cheese and elbow macaroni) when 3″ of snow closed down the schools in the Southeast.
I miss volleyball and croquet with the neighbors. And kickball, and clip on skates that had a key. (these are very similar, but had metal wheels, so I could skate outside). And tree houses. And blackberry bushes. And banana seat bikes.
You see I went “home” the other day. I drove through the old neighborhood.
The trees that are left are taller and the homes are a bit run down, but my memories still linger. As I drove up the road, I reminisced. Charlie lived in the ranch, he gave me Fluffy (a rabbit) when he got tired of him. Jerry in that one. Bryan and Randy in the split foyer. Marchelle next door to them. The Allen’s across the street (there were six kids in their family). Robin and Anita in the circle. No on called them cul-de-sac’s back then; see, simpler times. And most of those homes I had been in at one time or another. I knew which room belonged to which kid. I knew that the Allen’s had a rainbow painted on the wall in the 2nd bedroom. I probably even knew where each family kept their glasses, because I had probably helped myself to drinks in their kitchen more than once. Even looking at this picture brings back memories. We had a deacon’s bench on the porch and many children gathered along the walkway on weekday mornings, or on the porch while we waited for the yellow school bus to come up the hill.
It was the circle, simply “the circle” where many games of kick ball were played. Where hopscotch games were made with the same rocks we used to mark our place. Not the fancy colored chalk you can buy today. Where we played until the street lights came on and we all rushed home, or not.
You see back then real life relationships were more important than most everything else. No video games to distract us, no cell phones to interrupt. Just pure unadulterated fun with friends. Everyone in the neighborhood has long moved away. Except maybe the Allens. I stopped by about 15 years ago and Mrs. still lived there. I couldn’t bear the thought of her maybe being gone, so I didn’t stop last week.
So, the houses might be a bit ragged.
Buzzy’s tree house is long gone.
I doubt there are enough kids in the neighborhood to play a rousing game of kick ball anymore.
The lime green bike with the banana seat and the metal clip on skates are long gone.
But the memories of simpler times remain.
And they are good.