This Old House

I made a slight detour on my way home the other day. Bypassing the busy roads to the smaller streets filled with kids still biking about and playing wiffleball surged a sense of nostalgia in me. I used to be one of those neighborhood kids. My days were blissfully endless. Playing tag when we could no longer see each other, playing a game of kickball when we could no longer make out the ball, biking until our legs felt like rubber, those were the days. Turning the corner and passing the house that once had a fenced up dog reminded me of walking to elementary school and jumping at the sound of his bark. It was a routine and the bark was inevitable, but the timing was impeccable. Somehow he knew when to startle me and catch me off guard.
Reaching the end of the street, I am looking at the brown and white colored house with steps leading to a porch out front and a wood-finished deck out back. There that house sits on the corner. For 16yrs of my life, this was my home. Many bitter wintry days were spent shoveling that corner--that surely will not be missed. But I will miss those warm summer nights spent barbecuing out on the deck, walking 3mins. flat to get to the high school, the attic that literally was accessed by climbing on top of bureaus and dressers, those long delirious nights singing karaoke in the basement, my cotton candy pink walls and the once multi-colored heart wallpaper (actually, I lie, this won't be missed either), the deep blue carpeting that caused an obstacle for interior decorating purposes, and the red accented kitchen in which our family spent most of our time together. Come to think of it, more than this old house...the memories that were made from this house is what I miss the most.
It's odd to see cars you've never seen parked in that driveway you used to drive up and down in, and strangers laughing out back on the deck with friends and family. That was my house. I wonder if they, too, would have the same memories from this old house as I did.