We moved from this neighborhood the summer before my 4th grade year. They were buying everyone out so they could sell or tear down the small frame houses and build bigger homes. It was a move up for our family, to be sure. But my mother mourned this move deeply. We often went back by to see if our little house was gone. One day it was gone and there was an empty lot. Sometime later, a nice brick home stood in the place where our little frame home had stood. The home where we hung out on the porch to wait for my father to come home after work. The home that had a heater with a vent in the floor that kind of scared me. It could have swallowed any of us up if we'd stepped wrong and fallen. Maybe I thought the devil lived down in there? It was also the home that heralded the arrival of my younger sister and brother. My first "best friend" lived across the street. The place itself, the land where our house was, holds many sweet family memories.
The neighborhood is not that far away. One day I was in the area and had time to kill so I drove by. All but one of the older homes have been torn down and new homes are on most of the old lots.
I circled around to the back of where our house was. That lot was empty so I stopped there. I was in a meditative mood and looking across to the gully when a young girl appeared, as though she had crossed the gully from our old backyard. It was like seeing a young doe in the woods. We were both a little unsure of what we were seeing and maybe we were both a little wary. But our eyes met and I knew she was my younger self. The vision lasted only a few moments longer. It was such a sweet communion. I felt so loved and at peace afterwards. I cried. Tears well up as I write this now.
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