Passing Home

I Take A drive By The Old Homestead

The last picture I took of my childhood home was of the number I knew so well

I’ll be on the road for the next couple days attending to some family time in Central and Western, NY so here’s another quick thought about being in my hometown that I’ve been mulling over.

I drove past my old childhood home the other day, the low brick, square suburban plot of land my father and his brothers and cousins built with their bare hands in 1960.

The home stayed in the family until 2012 when dad finally moved out and into my sister’s home one town over. At the time that dad moved out, he was getting up there in years and in ability and the home had seen better times.

I moved dad to my sister’s and then spent one last night in the empty, echoing house, sitting at the round wooden table in the kitchen under yellowing paint and the scuffed linoleum I had grown so accustomed to as a boy. The house, as it ended up being left behind, was not in very good shape.

Which is what shocked me as I drove by. My old home is beautiful!

The new owner has built a long fence into the backyard, with a new garage and thick, greenery and landscaping all through the front and side. The simple front stone step has been turned into a columned porch that matches the fencing. The grass is green and lush, as my father would have wanted it.

I almost … almost … stopped to knock on the door to tell the new owners how much I appreciated the work, how lovely it looked. But I kept going, fearing that might seem strange and weird. Who knows who they are, they have no clue who I am.

Would that be unpleasant to you? If a stranger knocked on your door and told you they used to live there? Yeah, that would be strange.

Anyway, I felt a tinge of guilt as well since these folks obviously have pride in the property and maybe if they met me they’d think, Well, why didn’t he fix it up!

Good memories. The neighborhood is still decent. I’m glad the home is still a home.

How about you? Have you gone back? Have you ever visited the place where you grew up? What’s it like these days?