33. Helpless

What is it about places we've lived or spent time at that cause them to attach themselves to our hearts? Every place I've lived is a part of me. I can't remember the word from today's Wordle, but I still vividly remember the home I lived in for the first  6 or so years of my life. I remember little details about my grandparent's homes. When I am in Bloomington, IN to watch a game I make it a point to drive by the old apartment. Why? There is nothing in any of these places for me anymore. The homes have long since been emptied of my family and friends.   Then why are we attached to, and still remember, the places that we once spent time?  It is almost as if rolling by them helps recharge the memories as each year attempts to wipe them away. We know we are helpless to stop time, so perhaps those memories or the proximity to these places gives us comfort. 

Today I found out my parent's are selling the home I grew up  in. A place they have lived for 33 years. A place where I spent  a good part of 15 or so years of life. 15 years where I went from a child to an adult. So many changes, so many memories happened there. I am not going to lie. I didn't think this stage of life would happen yet and I am a bit surprised about the melancholy I feel about this chapter coming to a close. The house looks nothing like it did when I was growing up, but knowing that it was there was something I found comfort in. 

 I remember moving in there. I remember playing assault from American Gladiators from the split level with my sister. Shooting Nerf guns at the target.  Nintendo, fires, movies, forts, our Beagle. I remember Sega and games in my room with my friends. Hailstorms, flooded basements, snowstorms, snow forts, no power and no school. Christmas mornings charging down to the tree. BB guns and toys.  Easter eggs in the mouths of taxidermied fish. The pool in the yard.  Coming in from a swim into the cool air conditioning, making an ice cream sundae and watching the Sox. The deck. Trick or treating, baseball in the park, the old swamp, the new swamp. The neighborhood kids. Backyard camp outs and snow forts.  Big breakfasts. Entemann's donuts and fruity pebbles before school.  I remember laughing and I remember fighting with the family. So many birthday parties and simply growing older. So many life changes came to pass in that house. I remember my dad teaching me guitar chords in my room. The times we got news of loved ones passing. I remember massive 4th of July parties and good times.  I remember so many things about that place that helped shape me over the years.  Even my kids are sad to see it go because of the memories they have from their short time visiting there. 

This reads like a eulogy. I know. Perhaps it is one. A goodbye to another era. A reminder that we are helpless to stop time. A nudge to take it all in when it is happening so the memories remain. The waves of life will continue to ebb and flow as time rushes on. Like the beach we are helpless to stop it from  washing parts of us away slowly over time.   I am sure there will be a time in the not too distant future where I will drive by that tri-level on Arrowhead Drive and see kids playing in the yard and grill smoke rising from the backyard deck. I'll listen for the music and laughter of a family going through their changes there. Marching toward the day that house will be a memory of their younger days.  And just like I do when I pass other places that have meant something to me I will smile and remember the good times.... and for a moment I won't feel so helpless as life rolls on.  Thanks for the memories and thanks for making that house what it was for us Mom and Dad.