Curved Memories

Curve.  It makes me think of playing baseball with my dad.  I used to play when I was younger and still enjoy it.  I would go outside and play the game with him on the street or the backyard.  Even though we both knew that I wouldn’t really be able to play the sport when I got older competitively, we played on.  He taught me everything he knows about the game and showed me the proper technique to play well.

One day he came home from work a little late and with a big smile on his face.  He had something small and brown wrapped in a plastic Wal-Mart bag.  He uncovered it and handed me a small baseball mitt with my name on it.  I smiled and beamed with joy.  My mother behind me chuckled and gave me a hug.  Dad grabbed his mitt and ran outside with a baseball.  We played all the way until dinner time and had to go it.

Whenever I go back to my old house in America, I always go back and look at our old quoldisack; or as the kids on the block knew it, the Baseball Park.  We used to play games there, right outside Lynn and Joe’s house, the older couple that lived in a nice house with a beautiful garden.  My family became very good friends with them and so did all the kids.  Since their kids were all grown up and moved away, they missed having little kids around.  They treated all the kids that would stop by for lemonade and cookies like their grandchildren.  I love them and I am always so happy to go back and see them.  Anyway, they would tend the garden and watch us play.

Not many of the other kids were my age so I only had a few friends.  One of them, who was exactly my age lived across the road.  She was sweet and cute.  We were together since we were little babies and as our parents became good friends, so did we.  We would sometimes play with my Dad out on the street although it did have a slight down-hill curve to it.  Nothing mattered to me and her for we were together and having tons of fun.

Now when I return home, to that curved street, all I can think about are the people who stood here with me; Lynn and Joe, my neighbourhood friends, my relatives, my parent’s friends, dogs and cats, the people who lived on the opposite side of the road, Margaret, my Father, my Mother, my little sister, and me, most of us no longer there.  Margaret moved away to a bigger house to accommodate all her siblings (they are so cute!!).  Lynn and Joe are moving away too and he dogs and cats no longer go out to play with us.  Old memories will we never forget, on that curved, concreted black street world.