Pt. 7 Never Have I Ever? Hold My Coffee!

Back in the day, we had so many places in our neighborhood to go and have a good time. We had the woods, the first field, the second field, Blueberry Hill, the cemetery, Stump Pond, and the lake. And the list goes on.

I went for a visit to my old stomping grounds to find a sea of houses. They were so close you could touch them. Gone were the woods and fields. We played manhunt, hide and seek, and just hung out. Gone was Blueberry Hill and the cemetery where we went sledding and brought buckets of blueberries. Gone was Rock City (A pile of rocks we could use as a fort). Nobody uses the lake, and the stump pond has been replaced by yet more houses.

As we drove around the old neighborhood, it felt as though I were in a maze. If left alone to navigate the way out, I would probably be lost for hours. When I reached my childhood home and gazed out the window, I realized the yard wasn't quite as big as I had remembered. Then I looked closer, and it dawned on me that it was because houses replaced the woods that bordered the yard.

As I sat mourning my childhood. I began to feel for the youth brought up in my neighborhood today. We were the last generation to enjoy the semi-peace of silence. The last who ran through the fields and woods. The last to visit the cliffs. I count myself lucky to have experienced the joy of climbing to the tops of the trees or building a fort in the woods. The last who ate their weight in blueberries. We had it made and didn't understand the significance of what we were about to lose.

I'm sure I am not the only one who was the last of a generation to experience such things. So, for all of you out there who had one of the greatest neighborhoods to grow up in, raise a glass. This is to us.