Today I drove past my best friend’s childhood home. I stopped at the stop sign, turned left and then swung a right, right past the blue and white two-story home. The grass in front was well-tended just like it had been when Lauren lived there and that little tree in front was already turning color with autumn approaching.. Memories flooded back in an instant. I can see my mom dropping me off here for a slumber party. I wave her away as Lauren opens the front door smiling, a container of Carnation malt in her hand, ready for making ice cream soda’s. I see Lauren and I sitting in her cool, black Jetta, parked in the driveway of her house, angsty, emotional teenagers listening to Jewel’s Adrienne. Our seats laid back and the moon roof open. I can see us tumbling out the front door, a gaggle of young bodies dressed in Halloween costumes, ready for candy collecting. I see the stretch limo sidled up to the driveway. Girls in gowns and boys in tuxes eager for Prom and the rest of our lives.

It’s funny how a quick drive past a childhood home can conjure up so many memories and feelings. I connected with Lauren today after passing by her home. Texted her. Told her I missed her and the days of our youth. She texted back. I miss you too. It would be nice to go back… maybe for just a quick visit? 

-joining Heather for Just Write (“an exercise in free-writing your ordinary and extraordinary moments”).