Memory Lane

An unsuccessful trip to a wedding dress shop near Muscle Shoals prompted a drive through our old neighborhood. An area my family so loved for the five years we lived there in the mid-1980s, the memories of the house and friends there are plentiful. As we drove along the street and slowed in front of our house, I was surprised at the forgotten memories triggered by seeing it in real time; assurance that the images of the house sometimes swirling in my mind are not just figments of a made-up charming childhood.

Studying this picture now - back in my New York City apartment - it's not the memories of the house and yard that fill my thoughts: I'm bewildered to realize the size of the second-floor, street-facing, corner bedroom with two walk-in closets I enjoyed in Muscle Shoals is at least three times the size of this small New York City bedroom I sit in now.

What do all the NYC kids do with no room for Barbie house creations, dress-up clothes spilling out of the closet, doll cribs for each baby, palettes in front of the TV for cartoon watching, games of "house" with the wooden stove, table and chairs, or a window for daydreaming into the trees and sky?