A Sunday Visit To 1993

Twenty years ago my life changed radically. In the summer of 1993, when I was 7 years old, my father and mother moved to another house and they took me with them. We did not move that great a distance geographically, only about four or five miles, but to me it was like moving to another planet.

Our first house was an inexpensive structure with two bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchen. There was no basement, and the attic was good only to store our Christmas decorations. We moved into a very nice ranch-style house with three bedrooms, a spacious living room, a large kitchen, a full basement, and an attic where kids could play. Outside the back door was a wooden deck. But the best part, although I did not immediately realize it, was that we now lived about a five minute walk (or a 90 second run) from a small wooded area where I would go to explore nature, and in so doing, discover a passion.

But still, it was not like I had moved from hell into heaven. Facing a new environment was traumatic for a little girl. I had to find new secret places. I would start the fall in a new school. But probably the biggest thing was; all of my old friends sudden lived just a little bit too far away for me to reach by bicycle. I remember telling my mother that I missed Jennifer and Gretchen, and Mom replying, “One of these days we will have to invite those kids over here.” But there was never any invite, and I never saw them again.

I remember Gretchen and me taking ballet classes, a grand total of three classes to be exact, before we realized that the dancing would take actual work. But that did not stop us from wearing the leotards and the pretty ballet shoes for months until we wore them out.

One Saturday the three of us put make-up on each other. It was such fun, never mind the fact that we ended up looking like either three circus clowns, or three small prostitutes, depending on your perspective.

Yesterday afternoon I visited my old neighborhood, my first neighborhood. Over the last year or so I have gone back a couple of times for no other reasons than I am both sentimental and a bit idiotic. In the past twenty years some things have changed in the old neighborhood, some things haven’t. I saw a new garage. Some big trees are now gone while nearby, smaller trees are growing. On the other hand, the house across the street is still ugly yellow, with the same green shutters.

Yesterday I parked in front of our old house and walked to my long-ago elementary school a few blocks away, just as I walked that same route twenty years ago, albeit on shorter legs. I have driven by my old friend’s house too. Gretchen is of course long gone from her old residence. I do not know where she is. To be honest; I’m not sure I want to know, after all, life may not be going so well for her, and a sentimentality like mine is probably pretty fragile.