Living life

The neighborhood I live in was built in 1955.

Brick ranch style houses. Houses that were top of the line in 1955.

My house still has the original master bath - pink and burgundy. Double pink sinks. Pink Toilet. Pink Commode. I can't even think of changing it.

As much as my neighborhood is new - it's still old. Or, as I would like to think - traditional.

We still have ice cream trucks in the summer.

There is a tire swing in my Willow tree. A tire that fell out of the tree when a young girl down the street was swinging on it.

She was crying when she ran up to tell me she had "broke my tree".

Sweet kids still afraid of telling grown ups "I made a mistake"

I told her, "Everything breaks after a while. Thanks for coming to tell me. I'll get it fixed. Please come back and swing some more."

The neighborhood house. This was the house I wanted to live in when I was a kid.

But that was my childhood.

I figure it's this way in life:

you live you life you thought you were supposed to have.

Sit around and be disappointed about your life.

Or

Go live the life you wanted.

Of course, that is simple in theory.

There is heartache. Disappointment. Ecstasy. Everything in between.

Pick which one works best for you.

Remind me to tell you about my library.