Time Doesn’t Stand Still

I went in the back door. In truth, while I know there is a front door, I don’t think I’ve ever been through the front door. I go to the back door. I don’t ring the door bell and I just walk in.

This is what you do in the old places. The thing you have always done – in my case you walk through a back door your have been walking through since you were 4 years old. This will be the last time because the house is sold. My god parents are moving to a Condo. I didn’t ever have a single childhood house, this place was as close as it gets. Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, random weekends, long summer vacations. This was my other home as a child.

It’s a combination of things really. It’s close to my mother’s birthday and I find myself especially missing her and now the house has been sold.

I was out of kilter that night. It’s hard to say goodbye to your childhood. We, or at least I, seem to want some portion of life that stays the same. I don’t have to be a part of it, but somewhere and somehow it would ease the ache in my soul if I knew the home I spent my childhood in would continue on, just as it was.

If there was a place that I could turn up, should I need it, and I could walk in, drop my keys in the basket, pour myself a cup of coffee and grab a cooky from the jar and collapse into a heap on the sofa. A place where time stood still, even if that is an utter impossibility.

Even if I never need it, I liked knowing it was there. And now it’s not.

And I’m a bit sad.

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