I was in my old neighborhood the other day and drove down the street I lived on from ages 2 until 23. My mom lived there until she passed away 4 years ago. What a pleasant surprise to see a group of exuberant kids at the bottom of the driveway of the house I knew most of my life.
"LEMONADE!!! Pleeeeeease stop!" they shouted at me as I slowed down and grinned at them. I pulled over and asked, "Do you live here? This is my old house. I grew up here!" The 10-year-old girl who matched the dad and little brother up near the house looked at me in surprise.
I chose lemonade from their poster board menu. "Give her a crazy straw!" they all shouted to the concessionaire. I paid and was handed a purple cup of fresh-squeezed lemonade (complete with floating lemon seeds) and a blue swirly straw that was way too big for the cup.
"Have a nice day!" they shouted as I pulled away from the curb.
I sipped the lemonade as I drove back home, and a tear came to my eye. How many lemonade stands did we have throughout the years in that very same spot? We never could imagine any other family but ours living at 680 Hazelvalley. Now a new family with new kids has taken our place. What a refreshing feeling to "meet" the new tenants and see that they are continuing the tradition in the house that built me.
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“The cure for anything is salt water - sweat, tears, or the sea.” - Isak Dineson