At the bottom of the hill is Coffee Creek. I spent so much time in that creek as a kid. We waded and caught crawdads. A few times, I even came out with a leech or two on me. I loved playing down there with my friends. Do kids still do this, I wonder?
The trees were beautiful.
Each one prettier than the one before it.
But then, I found what I was looking for. This is the house that I grew up in. I love this house. I met the people who live there now a few years ago. They said I was welcome to come and see the house anytime. I said no thank you. Some things you just never want to change and I want to remember that house just the way it was.
If I close my eyes, I can see it. My dad reading the newspaper on the front porch. Mom cooking dinner in the kitchen. My sisters getting ready for their dates. My brother playing in the back yard with his friends. And me, sliding down the bannister. Oh, how I loved to do that. It was actually the very last thing I did when I left that house when mom sold it. I was 26 years old and I cried while I did it. I miss that house, but I sure do love the memories.