Yesterday morning I hopped in my car and went to:
It's the town I grew up in. We moved there when I was 10 months old. My parents moved into the house my dad lives in, 6 weeks before I turned 5. The house has been "our house" for 45 years. That's a long time. While some things stay the same, other things change.
This is a picture of the driveway. We used to run up it, ahead of the car, playing "Beat the Bums"! It's not so easy these days to even WALK up the driveway, let alone sprint. We also used to ride our bikes to the top, once we graduated to a 3-speed.
I've never seen the hill so green. It blows my mind. My dad says there's been a LOT of rain this year. That's good. When I look closely, it looks like a wasteland that's been painted green. The tangelo trees that have ALWAYS been there are dead skeletons. It was a shock to see.
The house number that my mom erected is still there, flanked by stunted century plants. When we first moved in, there were two large century plants, standing like sentinels, at the base of the driveway. Then one bloomed. Then the other bloomed. The blooms were spectacular, but blooming killed the plants. I guess there are still seeds, since these are volunteers.
Another change is the wildlife. We had lots of cats when I was growing up. (Big surprise, right?) And there were coyotes. Now there are bunnies and, according to my dad, they are everywhere. He feuds with them, much like Yosemite Sam and Bugs.
At the top of the driveway is my mother's garden. She's been gone 10 years. I don't think it's been touched in all that time. The jacaranda tree is dead. An iris or two that I gave her are blooming, but that's it. The plants that were intentionally planted are for the most part dead. The weeds and volunteers are green. It's the rain.
My dad was President of the San Diego Rose Society in 1967. We always had roses. At one time he had 150 bushes, all groomed to perfection. He entered rose shows up and down the state. His interest in his roses comes and goes. They've been abandoned for a while, and many of the bushes are dead. This terraced garden used to EXPLODE with color. And fragrance.
Inside things are the same. He still has the same sign posted on his den door. I guess my mom, my three sisters and I were too much for him. I could probably count on one hand the number of times I've stepped foot in his den. I always wondered if he let my brother into the den, and if he did, did he let him talk?
Why did I take this trip to Memory Lane? I was on a rescue mission. We rescued my sister-in-law's piano from the garage. Whenever we can coordinate a trip, the piano will head to my daughter's house. In the meantime, it is resting in the van, waiting for some big strong guys to put it in the garage.
And that's all folks! Hope you enjoyed the show!
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