I Remember Going Down the Road

I remember my grandparents living down the road.
I remember walking through our back yard, through my cousin’s junk yard driveway, and up to the house.
I remember my aunt living on the other side of their house in that trailer and her son blaring music.
I remember the summer days with family sitting around and us kids playing under the big chestnut tree out front.
I remember the burnt out trailer that they used to live in before the fire I might not have been born yet for.
I remember my sister living down there in her teenage years and not seeing her that often.
I remember always being intimidated by my grandfather.
I remember him being a big, scary guy who swore a bit.
I remember my grandmother telling me to knock someone out who gave me problems in school.
I remember all of those things she taught me about life.
I remember the family gatherings down there.
I remember my cousin’s band playing for the family for a picnic.
I remember playing baseball with the other kids.

I remember the family get togethers slowing down.
I remember when Grandpa died.
I remember when Grandma recognized me.

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