Doesn't look like the house I grew up in anymore. The basketball hoop I spent hours trying to conquer is gone. The wooden fence my brother and I helped my dad build and stain in now a white picket fence. The bushes I would read behind have been cleared out. The massive evergreen tree on the corner could no longer hide me or anyone, as all the bottom branches have been done away with. It looks drastically different but still overwhelms me with memories and emotions when I visit.
Have you ever held onto something that isn't what it used to be? It's bittersweet.
In a way, it feels as though it has nearly been ruined, not preserved as it should be. But I also think it was only what it was while I was there; I'm not able to enjoy it anymore, so it's enchantment has faded away out of respect.
I remember vivid incidents and feelings that came with growing up there. The countless hours rummaging around that park and conjuring up grand adventures and feeling like me and mine would never leave, that the world would never spin us out of this place.
You will always have part of my heart.
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