The Death of a Rose Bush

And a home from the past

As I walked into the old neighborhood I was greeted by the sound of birds, of distant barking dogs, of lawn mowers, and of unseen children playing. It sounded just like it did so long ago when I used to live there. It was the middle of summer and the neighborhood was vibrant with life. The giant trees lining the street where filled with green foliage. Bushes were blooming and flower gardens screamed with color. Birdsong blended with the sound of leaves rustling in the breeze. The sound of sprinklers provided a cadence as I walked down the sidewalk towards the house I used to live in. Startled by my footsteps, a squirrel scampered across the street.

It seemed like I was walking into a past life. It was a very different time when I had lived there. I was a very different person back then.

I walked the sidewalk for several blocks. When I got to the block where my old house was my pace slowed down. What was I hoping or expecting to see? What was I looking for? What would I feel as I reconnected to a different time and a different me?

And then I came to my old home and I froze in my tracks. I was shocked. The house was all boarded up. There were plywood boards haphazardly nailed across all the windows of the house and the front door. A piece of the roof awning above the front door was…