“This city has turned into a hellhole!” Jen, my sister, said, as she stared out the car window. “I can’t believe it!”
“I’d been thinking that, too, although I wasn’t sure.”
“Gary, it’s pretty obvious this city is terrible! It’s run down. Dirty. And I’m pretty sure the women I saw standing on the street near the high school weren’t there waiting to meet a friend for coffee!”
“True. I just wasn’t sure if it’s all happened in the last thirty years. Remember—we were young teenagers when we moved. Our memories might not be totally accurate.”
“Oh. You have a point. I’m sure our memories are better than the reality ever was. But I still think it’s gotten worse. A lot worse. Dad certainly thought so. When he moved to Arizona, he commented how smart I was to leave in the 1990s.”
“Not that you made the decision. Mom made it. Although it wasn’t so much made as forced on her, thanks to the divorce.”
“True enough. She certainly wasn’t happy moving. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I remember that last night we spent in our house. I could hear Mom crying in her room.”
“I’m not surprised.” Indeed, I knew she was sad about leaving here the rest of her life. She’d fallen in love with this city when my parents moved to it, and that love never dimmed until the day she died.
“I wonder what she’d think seeing this place now.” Jen sighed. “Part of me thinks it might have been good if she’d seen it before she died. Maybe she’d have finished moving on from the past.”
We reached our destination, The Owl Motel. We remembered this motel from when we were young. We’d regularly pass by the sign, which had a huge owl painted on it. That painted owl always somehow looked welcoming. Now, thirty years later, it looked faded and tired. As did the rest of the motel. Oh, well. I’d checked online. A review said: “The Owl is out of date, but decent for the price.” It wasn’t like one motel in town that had a ton of news stories talking about drug busts and the occasional homicide.
“I suppose we should check in,” I said. “Then go out and get dinner. Maybe drive by our old house.”
“Might as well. Although be ready for a shock. I saw a photo online from when the house was last sold. Those flower bushes that Mom loved are gone. The tree with our tree house is also gone. But there is now a fence that would be at home surrounding a maximum security prison. I gather crime has gotten a lot worse since the 1990s.”
“Lovely,” I sighed.
Oh, well. That house was no longer home. This city was no longer our home town. We were just driving through.
“I’d been thinking that, too, although I wasn’t sure.”
“Gary, it’s pretty obvious this city is terrible! It’s run down. Dirty. And I’m pretty sure the women I saw standing on the street near the high school weren’t there waiting to meet a friend for coffee!”
“True. I just wasn’t sure if it’s all happened in the last thirty years. Remember—we were young teenagers when we moved. Our memories might not be totally accurate.”
“Oh. You have a point. I’m sure our memories are better than the reality ever was. But I still think it’s gotten worse. A lot worse. Dad certainly thought so. When he moved to Arizona, he commented how smart I was to leave in the 1990s.”
“Not that you made the decision. Mom made it. Although it wasn’t so much made as forced on her, thanks to the divorce.”
“True enough. She certainly wasn’t happy moving. I don’t know if I ever told you this, but I remember that last night we spent in our house. I could hear Mom crying in her room.”
“I’m not surprised.” Indeed, I knew she was sad about leaving here the rest of her life. She’d fallen in love with this city when my parents moved to it, and that love never dimmed until the day she died.
“I wonder what she’d think seeing this place now.” Jen sighed. “Part of me thinks it might have been good if she’d seen it before she died. Maybe she’d have finished moving on from the past.”
We reached our destination, The Owl Motel. We remembered this motel from when we were young. We’d regularly pass by the sign, which had a huge owl painted on it. That painted owl always somehow looked welcoming. Now, thirty years later, it looked faded and tired. As did the rest of the motel. Oh, well. I’d checked online. A review said: “The Owl is out of date, but decent for the price.” It wasn’t like one motel in town that had a ton of news stories talking about drug busts and the occasional homicide.
“I suppose we should check in,” I said. “Then go out and get dinner. Maybe drive by our old house.”
“Might as well. Although be ready for a shock. I saw a photo online from when the house was last sold. Those flower bushes that Mom loved are gone. The tree with our tree house is also gone. But there is now a fence that would be at home surrounding a maximum security prison. I gather crime has gotten a lot worse since the 1990s.”
“Lovely,” I sighed.
Oh, well. That house was no longer home. This city was no longer our home town. We were just driving through.
