I finally went back there. To the house that I grew up in.
6310 Short Street.
Some of you will read this and you might be a little uncomfortable. I'm letting you know that now, so that you can close this page and move on. But if you bear with me, I'd like to say something about my past, my life.
It's the first time I've been by that house since I graduated college. I have memories of playing in the cul-de-sac, a bunch of boys on bikes and running through yards. An innocence about the whole place. But that wasn't always the case. Amidst the sounds of youth were also the silent cries of fear.
My cries.
The innocence we want so deeply for our kids is fragile. It takes only one moment in time, or several episodes to taint that innocence with something dirty. Ugly. Unable to be explained away among the neighborhood gatherings, but instead hidden deep for years to come.
If you want to know what happened, it's simple. I lost my innocence. Not by my choosing, but through the actions of someone who should have known better. I was 6 or 7 when it first happened.
The hardest part is finally letting go. I realized that as I drove by today. I'm done with the hurt that I came to experience there. I don't have any desire to go hang out there. I really don't need the onslaught of memories. I do love some of the people that formed that part of my life, but I don't want to go to any reunions or even sit down over a meal. Some of them might not like what they see in my eyes if we were to sit across from each other. A lot of hurt and sadness. A little anger. An innocence gone, and I'd love to just ask "why?", "why did you take that away?"
A am finally LETTING IT GO! And it is that easy. I've done the leg work. I've looked at it from an adult's perspective. A perspective of a Father. I won't be casual with how I talk to my kids about life. I NEED TO KNOW THEM!
So Short Street - you LOSE! I am tired of hurting because of you. Because of what happened there.
Rest in Peace.
Chad
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