Going back to see the house I grew up in affected me more than I'd like to think. Of course, we can never go back and everything changes. I was prepared for that. I expected there to be remodeling changes to the tastes of the former occupantes and I expected it to seem smaller than I remembered it. What I wasn't prepared for was the lack of any remodeling, the total neglect and deterioration over the last 36 years. For me, it was depressing, and it took me a couple of days to shake off.
I still have occacional dreams in that house. Nice dreams. Part of me is there. Perhaps I haunt the place from time to time. That house has a soul and a personality. I saw that soul in utter dispare. Walking through the house, I had sudden memories of things that happened, laughter, tears, people in our lives. The walls and space within hold memories.
I was remined of Mrs. Haversham in the Dickens story David Copperfield. The old lady in her tattered wedding dress in her decaying old house waiting for the wedding that never happened.
Alright, that's enough. Time to move on. Shake off the past. Back to the present. I will take care of the house I now live in and cherish the people in my life. Life is short.