I hope this wasn't too maudlin. The one-hundred word limit does not leave a lot of room for subtlety or nuance.

As always, all feedback appreciated.

I can see how that would hurt, any signs of your old life removed so the house can be sold.

I still get wistful whenever I take the bus that passes the apartment where I spent the first 13 years of my life. The garden where we used to play has been largely replaced by new houses. But if I got out, I'd still find the footprint my uncle left in the wet cement when he lived there as a kid.

So the past is not entirely lost.

Thanks for sharing

Hi Barbara,

Thank you for your feedback and for relating your own poignant story.

My Mom actually still lives in the house I grew up in as a child. I never moved at all until I moved into my college dorm. And I moved into my current home twenty-three years ago, so this story is based more on my imagination than my actual experiences.

But having said that, I know -- given my mother's age -- that my childhood home will undoubtedly be on the market all-too-soon. I can't imagine anyone else living there, nor do I wish to. But I think those thoughts lurking in the back of my mind are probably what gave rise to this story.

Be well,
Lynn