Old home week

Friends and fun - what could be better? Photo by Kay Kauffman

The house has changed, and so have we.

They say you can’t go home again, and I think they must be right.  My dad lived in the house I grew up in till I was twenty, and I went back after he moved out once.  Once was enough.

The people who bought my house after my dad moved out remodeled it extensively before selling it themselves.  It was after this second sale that I returned – Miss Tadpole was selling Girl Scout cookies, so I took her through my old neighborhood to see how many of my old customers would buy from her.

It was incredibly surreal being the parent in this scenario.  Miss Tadpole was woefully under-prepared when it came to her sales pitch, but I’d been so well-rehearsed at her age that it was easy for me to pick up the slack.  We made a great team.

As we strolled through my old stomping grounds…