The sun is shining,
birds are singing,
children play ball in the park.
Teens hang out on a corner,
jostling and laughing,
couples are dining and pining in the cafe,
and I stand here, by my open window on the second floor.
The sun streams in along with a cool summer breeze.
Dad is waxing the car in the driveway,
Mom is getting lunch ready downstairs for us kids.
It's a beautiful day in 1952.
Summer weaves its spell on the war-weary masses.
I drift off into thought.
I think of the past, the future,
my friends who live down the street, lived...
I smell the rain filled breeze as it chills the room.
The floor is damp from the cold autumn rain.
My wife asks if I'm ready to go.
I turn around in the barren room to see my beautiful wife standing there.
We met on that day in 1952.
We walk down the stairs hand in hand.
She talks of her excitement about the new Connecticut home we've moved to.
The house is cold, the November rains beat down on the 60 year old house.
It's been empty for eleven of those years now.
We walk outside and lock the door.
The neighborhood is under construction for a "planned community".
We made a good profit from the company.
We had just held on to it since Mom died seven years ago.
She hadn't lived there since Dad died four years previous.
It's going to die now too.
We've new roots now.
Our children will have the same indifferent memories thirty years from now,
about a similar neighborhood in Connecticut.
They'll grow up and marry their sweet hearts from down the street, as we did
The rains let up a little now as we drive away.
It's a lovely day in 1952...