Memories

It's interesting how time can sometimes deepen memories. Why do I mean by this? Well, I moved out of my "young" childhood home when I was about 12 into the house that my parents currently live. I have some of the richest memories of that first house. I remember the bar we had downstairs where my grandparents used to entertain some friends when they would watch us for a few days. I remember rolling on my roller skates around the basement, entertaining myself for hours before dinner. Or even that first Atari where I would spend endless weekends playing games (we were only allowed to rent games on weekends).
I remember our narrow hallway, where my sister and I used to close all the doors and randomly bounce superballs (remember those) back and forth along the walls. We also had a living room sofa with just enough space to crawl behind for a really bad hiding space when playing hide and seek. Our kitchen had been remodeled before I was born, so it was laid out quite well unlike most kitchens that my mom would say "are made by men".
The street I lived on during those early years was also wonderful. There were about 5 families with children within about 4 years of me (both older and younger). We'd have involved games of chase, hide and seek, kick-ball and soccer until the sun had just gone down.

All of these memories are vague, but powerful. They are almost unreal: it's hard to believe that I actually lived them. To see that old house again would be hard to handle for some reason. To be back in that neighborhood would be very unreal. But I hope I don't forget those simple memories. They are a place and a time that will never happen again, except in my mind.