And that creeper would be? My creepy son. I mean creeping son. That’s him, the creeper. He creeped for me. Which made my tears, well… creep down my face. Are you following?
Indeed, my son is back safe and sound. His week in San Diego was giant, including Disney, underground skate parks, snorkeling, In N Out and a Padres game. And do you know what else it included? A very important address on Oakridge Road. The place I called home during my first and second grades.
He remembered. Thank heavens, my boy remembered. He asked his friend’s mother to drive him to my old home for a picture. The picture I wanted more than anything else from his trip. The picture of my son standing in front of a house that now only lives in my distant memories.
Earlier in the week I had told him about the ice plant. The olive tree. I also described the huge raised beds and stairs my father built on the side of the house. I openly wondered if they were still there.
“Mom. Guess what. I think they are still there.”
“The raised beds and stairs my father built? They were in the back yard! How do you know?”
“No one was home. I peeked.”
So there you have it. I should have expected it, coming from this particular son. Not only did he have his picture taken in front of the house, but peeked over the fence to see if his grandfather’s hard work remained. The grandfather he was never able to know.
I love my creepy son. My creeper son that is. You know what I mean.
Windows, doors and other things have been taken out and added. The olive tree is gone, as is the ice plant. But you will notice the pillars are the same, as is the stucco. So much has changed, yet so much remains the same.
The picture below is what started the tears for me. Look where I am standing.
Now look where my son is standing, 38 years later.
As a child, I spent many hours in this same yard, dreaming of what my life might one day be. Little did I know that one of my own children would stand in the very place I stood so many times. And that he would be standing there for me.