I’ve been driving around this town, snatching for old memories in familiar places. Looking at faces, wondering if I’d recognize classmates.

I remember the older couple who traveled to the Pole every year – Arctic? Antarctic? Their house had curiosities that fascinated me, but I was careful to not overstay my welcome there. I remember the young girls in the house across the street, a house that seemed large to me, and their couch by a big bay window. And the boy I played with next door whose older brother smoked cigarettes. Up the street, the year we left, a family with young girls moved in – creative, imaginative, fantastic girls who made up fun games for all the kids on the block and made up a performance for the adults one Shabbat. And a little farther up, the girl who moved to Israel about the same time we did – she was quiet but sweet. And farther up, the family I waited at the bus stop with who lived in a huge house – I spent a fair bit of time with them, though we didn’t really get along.

I wanted to kill some time this evening, so I punched an old address into the GPS. The house sure doesn’t look like I remember it, and I can’t decide if that’s because it’s NOT the same house (ie they tore down the one I lived in and rebuilt) or if it’s just the trick of old memory and old perspective. But the little side driveway is still there, with the fence covered in honeysuckle. I didn’t try the gate, or knock at the door, so I don’t know if the backyard looks the same, or the inside. The church is still next door, and a few of the neighboring houses look the same. I drove up the block to find the houses of various neighbors I played with. (I find it an amusing irony that there’s an Echo in the driveway, since my first car was an Echo, several years later)

My babysitter and I went down fairly often, walked the loop. It was the funniest thing throwing bread to the ducks – especially when a piece landed on one duck’s back!

I decided to find the duck pond – one of my favorite childhood places. Got a little confused figuring out how to reach it, since my primary memory is “walk along the really long road or park by the tennis courts.” But I made it. I didn’t walk the full loop around – I’ll do it during the daytime sometime soon.

It smelled like books, which sat on shelves crammed into the space – just enough space to walk between the rows and pick something out. Even though space was tight, it was a cheerful room. I remember finding the book that one of my poems was published in, in the section of books for older kids and adults.

I’ve already been in the library – though only briefly. That was another favorite place, and it looks much the same. I need to walk into the children’s room, though, where I spent the most time.

I haven’t gone to find the first house we lived in here – though I have memories of there as well. And I’d love to see the inside of the second house, where I have lots of memories. As for the school, it’s moved so many times – though I always recognize the small building where we spent a year or two. I sometimes wonder if I’d recognize the homes I visited when classmates lived there – but I don’t know how to find those houses, don’t remember addresses besides my own.

And of course there are other places – my favorite restaurant, and the 7-11 I went to for Slurpees. I’ve been in Glatt, the supermarket we frequented. Not Shoprite though, yet. I haven’t gone into the City to find the small pieces I remember from trips with my mother – the kinetic ball machine in the Port Authority, the art store where I bought Pogs and design hole punchers, the building where she worked. I’d take my sketchpad and draw, or swap poems with the attorneys. I still have some poems they gave me in exchange for mine.

I found a few things to amuse me that are more of my adult consciousness, as well. For instance, a building shaped somewhat like a Basotho hat. For instance, a Starbucks where I can sit, go online or read, and generally chill when I want to get out of the house.