You can never go home
I love Google maps – they take me to places I need to get to this afternoon. They take me to places I dream of going, like Tromso at the top of the Norwegian fiords, where I hope to go one summer and see the northern lights.
And sometimes they take me places I once knew better than the street I live on now. Like this place – uglier than any place has a right to be – torn up with Walmart progress and destruction, though to be fair, that started long before Walmart arrived. It started right after I left, after our house burned down. The house in this post.
I just got in the mood to have a look at some of the places I lived. They haven’t all changed all that much, some almost not at all, except for the window dressing. But this place, which was one of the best places has been completely erased, the hill bulldozed away to make a parking lot. What did they do with the creek? Where I caught a one-eyed snapping turtle Ma named Cyclops and once overflowed so our front lawn looked like a pond for a few hours. It used to run under the railroad tracks to the larger stream in the lower right hand corner…
Who will remember this if I don’t? Does it matter?