I remember us. Friday night dinners served with an appetizer of the game hangman, an entrée full of inside jokes to be topped off with a favorite movie. If only I could remember what movie it was that we loved so, but some memories are meant to be lost in the dusty corners of our minds. The memories that feel truly lost until you reach such an old and fragile age where it becomes all you can remember. Getting old, it seems so far away, but happens to each an every one of us. The important part is getting there stable, happy--
I saw that familiar bright blue bus sign waking me up out of my deliberate daze. It was not to my surprise that the insignia was still covered in rust and slightly turned to the right, as though it was a place thousands of people walked by but never had the care or time to repair. Funny how this used to be my home, still is, but feels like a place of dwelling I only visited in my dreams. My mind yelled at me telling me to run away and never come back, but my heart constricted by this band of anger told me this was the only thing left for me to do. This game of tug of war between my heart and mind was criticizing to the point of exhaustion. I felt as though I could not escape, until something unspeakable clicked within me. Like two puzzle pieces fitting together, I gave uncontrollably in to my heart. Listlessly, I pulled the thin yellow wire informing the bus driver that this was where I intended to stop. I gave the driver quick thanks and began walking down the timeworn steps about a foot apart, until I attained stationary ground. The bus hissed by me like it was grateful to be ridden of my company. Whilst taking an extensive look at my surroundings, I placed my hand on my stomach in great concern. Standing upon the crumbling ash fault, a knot in my abdominal, catapulted by a mixture of anxiety and fear began to arise. With each step pulling me closer to that road, the knot got tighter and I could feel it coiling and folding. I fought it though, keeping my head down and eyes focused on my brown army boots until I arrived at my destination. Finally I was at the opening of Oxford Avenue.

I stood there as the trees and homes along the small paved street beckoned me in. This was going to be my only chance, I thought, I needed to do this. Shoe by heavy shoe I stumbled in awe admiring how big the saplings seemed to have grown in my absence. Staring in bewilderment at how the homes appeared to have desecrated themselves, coated in peeling paint and falling side panels.
While eyeing the road, I gave myself a congratulatory pat on the back for making it this far. I began to wonder aimlessly, getting lost in my own brain attempting to search for recollections of the life I once had here. Then, with a rapid glance to my right I caught a glimpse of it - the one place that could feel like a prison and building of liberty at the same moment. I was not sure if I was happy to have found it, because St. Johns Elementary School came with countless emotions. Emotions so powerful that by standing in front of it, my brain sensed that with a tiny prick it could pop. I inhaled deeply and briskly made my way over to the playground at the side of the building.
I sat on the tarnished swing set and stared up at the pale grey sky. The birds chirped and the beetles sang to their own tune as I rested my head upon my shoulder. I closed me eyes to give my self some sort of emotional rest. To my surprise, I heard a dog cry from behind me awakening me from my trance and I spun around. I realized that the sound seemed to of echoed from beyond the school fences, and my pulse reduced. As I gradually turned back around I spotted the baseball field. Sand kicked up and rose higher and higher above the broken metal fence, reminding me of the games I watched as a child. Doing this seemed to have struck some kind of indescribable chord within my soul. I could hear them, hear them calling and laughing with such a giggle that made most want to join in. Conversely from an external perception it was quite the opposite. To an outsider it was filled with nasty names and secrets that made you want to shrink until there was nothing left. Such whispers that could turn a smile in to a completely altered person. A person nobody would wish to be in his or her worst nightmare. That person. I jumped off the swing set, hurling it back in anger, whipping tears from my eyes before they could fall and have any trace of existence. I ran to the front entrance of the school wanting to throw anything I could get my hands on. I wanted to scream ‘you did this to me, this is the way you left me’, but all I could do was stand in utter silence.
I stood there for what felt like hours. Examining every little last detail and crevice within the schools exterior. Then I noticed the sign, my goodness I actually saw it.
I chuckled ever so slightly at the missing ‘L’ in ‘School” on the sapphire emblem above the front entrance. It was wonderful to see that they replaced the missing letter with a cardboard cutout! The tiny snicker grew in to hysterics as I stood in the front parking lot acting like a madwoman. I just couldn’t control it, all of these years gone by with a single letter still gone unnoticed? I allowed myself to snicker a while longer, and then turned firmly on two heals and walked away. Never looking back.
As I took a right down oxford, I gave a quick look around to assure nobody had seen my little episode. Being sent to an insane asylum would not be the ending to this day that I had particularly wished for.

I continued to march on; hearing the crisp leaves crunch beneath my feet, breathing in the sweet autumn air and saying quick hellos to many familiar and aged faces. As I strolled down this long road I thought about all of the people still living here. Extraordinarily sitting in the same home, walking the same dog and mowing the same lawn. Such a feeling I could not relate to, because for me, nothing was the same.
As I continued to stroll, I finally arrived at the little house with the big bay windows. It was astonishing; the house was unreservedly the same. The sofa bench where all four of us would sit and laugh still sat outside, the Bluebeard shrub my father and I planted seemed healthier than ever, and the chair where my Mother would play with our rabbit Grey Paws stood proud.
I took a few steps closer to the bright yellow swing hanging from the ancient willow to the left of the front yard. I wanted to swing from it like I was seven again, but all I could do was admire at it from a distance. Such a minuscule thing that I so eagerly wanted to accomplish, but was no longer allowed to do. It was not my time anymore, and I have grown so tall since then I wonder if I would even fit. Even the basketball net appeared as though it had shrunk like a withering flower. Now looking at it I found it difficult to believe I had many struggles beating my dad at a simple game of b-ball 21, with such a miniature post and outsized net. Nevertheless badminton was where I would prevail! Such magnificent games played on this one street – such great defeats and victories that I could never forget.
Suddenly I heard a car motor chugging its way down the street. I took cover behind a large oak tree not in fear of being seen, but in curiosity of the present owners. A dark blue mini-van pulled into the freshly paved driveway and a smiling family of four hopped out. They reminded myself so much of my family when we resided their - one mom, one dad, one brother and one sister.
I was expecting a feeling of envy or sorrow, but this was not the case. It was the beautiful family’s home now and I honestly felt okay with that. I wished them all the best. I felt assured rather then sadness because for myself, my home was in the spirit of my family - it did not lie within any bricks or big bay windows. As I hurried along, I glanced back to find the little girl of about four smiling at me. Such a sweet little smile that could fill any cold heart with bliss and serenity, and I could not help but smile back at her. The warm sun poked through the clouds at the end of the street, leading me right to the ravine. It appeared as though God was calling down from the heavens and guiding me to where I needed to go.

During my childhood I spent almost every waking hour here, whether it was making stone bridges with my brother or finding massive snapping turtles with my father. I slid down the dirt bank hoping to regain some of those lost reminiscences.
The profusely muddy ground squished around my aching feet with every strenuous step. The light breeze blew the branches of the large maples back and forth, and I could feel the eyes of the trees looking at me. They did not not glare, but only looked and with such kind eyes. It felt as though they were welcoming my return after a long journey.
I walked quietly along the river not wanting to disturb the precious wildlife engulfed within this exquisite place. The birds, the bugs, the rushing water and critters crawling sounded like a magnificent orchestra procured to us by the universe as a priceless gift. What a gift it was. I took tiny and slow steps into the river wanting to take my time. I could feel the water rush into my boots and the familiar feeling brought me peace. The tadpoles brushed by me and I could see my old friend the little beaver slipping back into the ravine.
I walked on to the small island covered in tall grass and gently pushed my way through. I could hear rustling up ahead and I slowed my pace. When I arrived at the opening I saw the most magical image in all my short life. A deer, one I had seen once when I was a child, was sipping from the river. I knew it was he because the black tips located on its ears like someone had dipped them in paint, acted as his very own trademark. The dear perked up and looked directly at me. I don’t’ know why, nor will it be something I ever understand, but I began to cry. My hands shook and my feet trembled. I could no longer support my weight and uncontrollably fell to the ground. Yet, with all of this commotion the deer was still there, just looking at me with his giant and wise eyes. My mind burned and I could barely breathe as my eyes filled to the rim with water. I let each tear fall, not holding anything back. Watching every drop make its own imprint upon the earth. I began to see two of everything, as though I was suffering from double vision. Double vision so strong that if wished and tried hard enough, I could see us vaguely on the horizon - laughing and living with out a single care in world.
The deer sauntered away and took with it a colossal gust of wind. It surrounded me flowing through my veins and deep into my soul. The storm that consumed me broke the band constricting my heart, and I felt it shatter into millions of pieces. Pieces I let the wind carry away, and river wash far down stream to never be unearthed. And for the first time in a prolonged time, I could breathe.