Tuesday, February 21, 2017
My Childhood Home
My childhood home was located just north of Dallas Love Field Airport and the final flight path of those jets was right over our house. People who visited us wondered how we could tolerate those loud jet engines, not to mention the shaking that house went through, but we didn't give it a second thought. It was our beloved home. I remember the screened-in back porch with a wooden swing that we would sit in and listen to 45 rpm records on my record player back there. I remember the huge mimosa tree in our front yard that I'd take off the bean pods and empty them into a sauce pan and pretend I was making soup. I remember my mom hanging the wash to dry on her clothes line in the back yard. I remember the back yard when my friend and I thought we should dig a swimming pool only to my disappointment that my mom and dad were not impressed by the six feet by 6 feet by 6 inch mud hole that we had dug. I remember the side door that people would come directly into the kitchen where my mom was frying up her famous fried chicken and chicken fried steak.
Remember Tom Jones' song "It's good to touch the green, green, grass of home?" NOT!! My childhood mind saw things so very differently.