Bare with me, I’m feeling a little nostalgic. Which, by the way, was a damn hard word for me to spell. Seriously I had to ask my husband and he looked at me with a that “Thank god you’re cute!” expression. You know the one I mean, you’ve done it before, too, I’m sure.
Anyway, a little while back, a friend of a friend posted a picture of a place where I used to live. Being a military brat, I’ve moved a few times and it had always been into a PMQ, basically a townhouse or rowhouse. I still vividly remember moving to Oromocto. The PMQs had just been built, and we had a huge gaping hole around the entire house where they were putting the wires and etc. We entered our home across a makeshift plywood bridge for nearly a month. As a young teenager, it was damn fun.
Soon after, they filled in the hole, rolled out the sod, and our home looked great. We lived there for four years. I’d spent countless hours in the nearby woods playing army man. We had a large field where we played baseball and whatever other games we came up with.
Imagine my surprise at how different the place looks now, as in there were no more houses, no parking lots, nothing. Hell, they didn’t even have the side streets anymore. If I walked down that street today, I would be hard pressed to know it ever contained houses, let alone an entire subdivision of PMQs. It’s as if a part of my childhood was erased.
It’s odd, I don’t usually think of my childhood. It wasn’t a horrible one by any means, but I live in the here and now, enjoying the memories I’m making with my family. But to see it all gone kind of hit me hard. Reminded me just how fleeting everything really is.