On Saturday night, my cousin and his girlfriend were heading to a concert in Camden and asked if I could watch their new puppy, Coco.
Of course I was delighted, a whole night of puppy time. However, I got an unexpected surprise out of the visit.
My cousin and his girlfriend recently moved in to my grandparent’s old house. A house that I once lived in too, (for approximately one summer and month going into 5th grade.)
My parents at the time thought it was a great idea, having a big yard and in-ground pool. After some time though, with our old house still on the market and rough period adjusting to new schools and community, we moved back.
And while I was walking Coco through the big backyard that cool Saturday night, nostalgia hit me.
I remembered vividly going down the edge of the property where the creek sat when I was a kid, finding “cool” rocks, pretending to be damsel in distress, and trying to lure the outside cat Misty to the water.
I remembered the sound of the lightly flowing creek that now sits patiently still among the fallen tree limbs and overgrown plants at its edge.
The aged volleyball net and tether ball game we use to play on hot summer days, gone. All five fury kittens that Misty had and I loved dearly, gone.
However, despite the waves of nostalgia, I felt content with Coco prancing by my side.
This house always made me feel content in some way, – this was the house that my mother and her siblings grew up in, it was a house of memories and love.
I had not realized how much this property had changed over the past seven years, for I had not realized how much I have changed these past seven years.
In that moment I felt as old as this house. I felt all the old memories, the laughter and joy, the egg hunt activities on Easter, the hot summer days spent lounging in the pool – I felt it all.
As I sit here writing this post, I have exactly eleven days until move in and my unexpected gift that I didn’t know I needed was this trip down memory lane, one last time.
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