Missing My Old Neighborhood

I used to say Topeka was a good place to be from. I lived in ten different states in cities where, with few exceptions, I always felt at home. I never planned on leaving any of them, but, somehow, I always ended up back in Topeka, so, here I am again. Been here for 17 years this time, and I currently live only a few blocks from where I spent most of my childhood. I still like to drive by my old bike route between my house and the corner stores. There used to be a grocery store, next to a Western Auto, next to a Duckwall's, next to a fabric store called McDonald's. One of these days, I keep telling myself, I'm going to ride that route again with my bicycle. Only problem is my bike still has a rubbing thing going on and I can't get it fixed until I can get someone to haul the bike to the bike shop. I can ride it but it makes a rubbing sound I don't like. There's something magical and mysterious about driving that route. All the trees have grown tall and the houses look smaller and closer together. Of course, they're not, they just look that way with big trees in the yard. I don't know why it almost makes me cry to traverse that old path. Probably can't even name all the thoughts cruising around in my brain, memories and such. I just love driving that way, all the easy curves in the road, knowing where I am at every turn, plus the satisfaction of avoiding stop lights. It's like going on a secret mission or something. Going by the house I lived in from 3rd grade until my second year of college is the best part. The carport we used to have has been turned into a garage, and the mailbox is now in the actual yard instead of across the street where it was, who knows why? It's a corner house, so the lawn is a bit bigger than the yards of the neighboring houses, kind of like the corner piece of sheet cake. I still think of how it looked when we lived there, even though I know it's different because I was able to visit inside once. The owner only let me see the living room and the kitchen though because she was running a daycare, and the children were taking naps in the bedrooms. She probably just didn't want to let a stranger into the other rooms, but I would love to know if the cabinets my granddad made in my room are still there. I still have dreams in that old house. I can't remember any of them right now, but that house really does live in my memories--or should I say my memories live in that house? In either case, I wish I could buy that house and live in it again, that's what I really wish. You know how they like to say, "You can't go home again." You know what they mean by that. That is, you can't go back in time. Everything about the past is gone forever, except inside your head and heart. But those places and experiences are still a part of you and, depending on whether they are pleasant or not, can become a part of you and remain a part of you, or at least that has been the case for me. Most of the memories are pleasant and, therefore, they offer comfort. Comfort from what? Comfort from depressing thoughts about what might be difficult about the present time, in knowing that you survived the unpleasant moments, that life was mostly good and that the good parts have outweighed the bad parts. I don't even think about the bad parts very much. That is part of the redemptive plan of God, I am beginning to believe. The saddest part is, of course, that when we moved there, we were a family of four, but only for about a year, until my parents split. That was the worst part, but we kept on going and we were a smaller unit, but we managed. And I have come to a stopping place, because I have to leave in a few minutes. I am just grateful for what I had once, an intact, loving family. I don't think I ever gave divorce one single thought until it happened, so I guess our parents kind of kept it under wraps. Sure, they argued some, but didn't everybody? That was the worst of it until Daddy walked out that door. Thank God he only lived a few blocks away with his other family and we were with him three times a week until we grew up and moved out of that house. I still wish I could buy that house, and that may or may not happen. I guess everybody has to have a dream and that has been my dream for quite a while. I guess I should say that is my prayer. It would be so great, but we just have to wait and see. Good things can always still happen.