Monday, September 10, 2007

A Quick History Lesson

I stepped outside and noticed my brother talking to our retired neighbors.

I greeted them with an evening smile and they asked me what I was up to. After I told them that I was working and living at home, the woman that lived across the street told me about her two sons that didn't move out until they were married. And that was completely normal at that time. She said this in her Irish accent.

Ms.Santamoore lives next to me. Her hair is pure white and face is unaffected by the strain of age. She told me about how my court was filled with boys. All the garages were open and everyday was a picnic. One home had air hockey table, another a pachinko machine. At night all the neighborhood kids would lay down on the newly paved streets and gaze at the stars unpolluted by city lights. On the forth of July the street was closed off and everyone gathered to eat together. It was like a village. The streets ended early and end of the court used to a be a farm where they shot of firecrackers. I point to the large tree and ask her if it had been here that long. She responds that it was fairly new even though it stood miles high.

Her stories were simple but my imagination ran wild. I examined her face and translated her voice into a picture of what the court where I live on used to be. The sky turned dark and my brother was antsy and I excused myself to do chores. She told me it was nice to talk to me and I returned the gratitude. I wanted to ask her more because she took her stories with her never to be shared again.

1 comment:

dannie said...

aw thats bittersweet. old people are cute.