100 Park Glen

I can still hear the creaking of the wood floor in the hallway.
The cabinets would squeak too.
And that hiding place in the closet! To this day I'm the only one that knows about it.
The smell of the garage. The latter to the attic.
Every splinter from the porch I ever got still didn't keep shoes on my feet.
And that little room upstairs. What was that really for anyway?
The forest green carpet in the living room and my mothers bath tub. Her walk in closet was almost as fabulous.
The wall of mirrors in the dining room where my mother taught me how to write my name.
The small bathroom in the hall so coordinated with tapestry and wallpaper.
And the ivy mirror along with its matching shelf. It always looked like it was about to fall.
The bamboo forest and the swings in the back yard.
And then there was my room. It was pink and yellow and blue. A friend of my parents painted it.
Quite a big room for such a little girl.
Looking back, I see that, so far, those were the best years of my life.. All of us. Under one roof. Alive and well.
I'll go back one day. Hopefully with the ones that are left.
I'll imagine the round glass table that sat near the window in the kitchen. I'll see the counter tops of the kitchen and right away not help but smell of Bactine. Many a scraped knee were bandaged on those counter tops.
I'll pretend all my mothers flowers are still blooming in the back yard.
Hopefully the wallpaper in Drew's bedroom is still the same.
The bathroom that connected our bedrooms where I tamed my wild cat.
And then of course the basement. The musky smell of the cellar where we kept Thornton's collar. The hide out during tornado warnings.
The unfinished shelves from wall to wall exploding with books. Along with our first computer.
My first Restaurant was down there too. Along with my elementary school. I was the principle.
And outside, that little pond my mother made was down below the porch.
It was truly magical.
Every bit of my childhood.
Has it really come to the point where I look back at when I was a child?
Is it really over?
Hard to believe it.
Hard to believe a lot of things.