Monday, January 3, 2011


Recently I was back at my parents house visiting. On one particular day I found myself sitting on the couch in the family room looking out the back window. I watched as someone passed behind the house, walking the sidewalk on the other side of the fence. I watched as cars whizzed past, surely they were tying up all the loose ends they had before Christmas, which was the following day.

I couldn't help but remember what it was like there when I was a teenager. My parents bought the house, right after it was built, the year I turned twelve. I spent my entire teenage years in that house and that neighborhood. The neighborhood was brand new at the time and continued to grow. To this day there is still building going on in various areas of the neighborhood. We were outside of town and had to drive to get to anything. Now, we can drive about a mile to get to the nearest group of stores, right at the entrance of the neighborhood.

What I remember the most was how small the neighborhood was, how my friends and I would ride our bikes around the entire neighborhood in one lazy afternoon stroll. Now we couldn't complete that task if we rode all day. The neighborhood has just grown too much to do so. I also remember how that road behind my parents house was non-existent just 10 short years ago. There was a forest of trees behind the house, a ranch nearby, and often we could hear the cattle mooing on nice days. Now, it's the hustle and bustle of a busy road taking new residents to their new houses.

The thought hit me like lightning. Somewhere in the newer part of the neighborhood there is a preteen who lives in a brand new house, with woods behind her house, and is living some of the same memories I did when I first moved here. I won't say how long it's been since my parents moved into the house, but it's been a good while. Another generation of teens are enjoying some of the tings that are only now memories for me.

Maybe these memories are part of the reason I enjoy writing in the young adult genre. Maybe deep down I want to remember some of the more enjoyable memories of being innocent.

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