Sometimes, when I'm in the area, I drive by my childhood home.
This came to mind recently when Karen texted to tell me that our Carousel School was closing – the nursery school we had attended in the late 50’s. There would be a farewell open house, a chance to revisit.
Karen was my first friend and we found each other again a few years ago, on twitter.
"Do you have a mom named Tina?" I tweeted, after some online sleuthing. "Yes!" she responded, and we simply picked up where we had left off years before – like bookends on our lives I sometimes think, appealing strangely to my penchant for neatness.
I lived on Temple Road during my formative school years, from the age of four through my high school graduation when my parents felt finally free to spread their wings, forcing me to spread mine. They moved six times after that, the last after Dad was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer – his last selfless act to ensure Mum would be near to me. Thinking of you today and always Dad, Happy Father's Day.
I used to check the open house listings in the home sales section of our Sunday paper to see if I'd find my old address there. I hoped only for a walk through, to see my bedroom again and retrace my steps. I've lived longer by far in my current residence, and yet my childhood home still calls to me. I know it would be different now, with its new residents and the passage of time, but I’m sure there'd be hints of us still. Dad had built on an addition back then and we had dug our initials in the new cellar's wet cement. I'd definitely find that. And with luck and some magic, maybe I’d find that missing puzzle piece on my closet floor – that dragonfly inside the jar.
Carousel – my latest knit design, coming soon.
Update: Carousel, published 6/20/2019.