January 31, 2016 – There is the home you came from, and the home you created. The home I came from isn’t home anymore. Neither the city, nor the houses that were called home. (It’s rather neat that my childhood best friend now lives in the original home though)
It’s different, I’m different. And the differences are irreconcilable.
I miss what I remember, but what I remember doesn’t exist anymore.
We were up to celebrate the life of a family member, and didn’t really have time to do much else. I couldn’t bring myself to drive by my old house, or Mom’s old house. The fact that I started crying on the drive into town was enough to tell me that coming here is still painful with Mom gone.
But it’s funny what captures your imagination and brings other old memories to the forefront.
Like Grama’s Inn. (One “M”, I never understood that) When I was a kid, it was THE place to go for a milkshake. They made them in the old fashioned mixers and you got the glass and the metal cup with the half that didn’t fit in the glass. They were the best.
Do they still make them like that?
And the Camelot Court Motel, a fixture on the bypass. I’m amazed it’s still there. When I was little we’d go there for dinner sometimes, it wasn’t far from home. It doesn’t look like much, in fact it probably looks like somewhere to avoid. Nothing fancy, but it was always good. I wonder if it still is?
Friday I posted a picture of the new Mr. P.G., but a plaque by him, and info from a friend, led me to find the Mr. P.G. that used to stand by the Chamber of Commerce downtown, though he’s missing the BC Tel logo in the circle on his elbow, the telephone in his torso, his hat, and his nose. But it was still fun to see him as we took a little side trip on the way out of town to the airport this afternoon.
It was good to leave town with a smile.