My Old Pal Brockley
I started down Brockley at the Detroit end. I almost walked right past Little Free Library #7 by the railroad tracks. The dark green color and brown roof blended in with the landscape.
As I continued down the street my experience on Brockley was about to take an emotional detour. When I reached the Clifton end an avalanche of feelings fell over me. This was the corner I used to park at when I picked up my two youngest kids from Lincoln Elementary School. They were in fourth grade (Joe) and first grade (Anna) at the time. That was 10 years ago. Joe is now in Chicago going to college and Anna is a junior at Lakewood High School.
Back in 2014 I would meet them at the bottom of the stairs on Summit and they would ask where I parked. My answer was always “My Old Pal Brockley”. I don’t know why I used that phrase, but it came back to me today. Tears built up inside me as I remembered days when they would still hold my hand as we crossed the street. The same noisy electrical boxes were there, the same spooky old tree on the corner, the same knee-high wall by the sidewalk they would try to balance on. I tried to compose myself as I took a selfie for this post.
As I finished my jog home, I saw Anna pulling out of the driveway and heading off to her day at Lakewood High School. The tears started again, realizing that we can’t go back in time. At least today “My Old Pal Brockley” helped me remember.
