Just a House



I found a photo online today of one of the four houses I lived in as a child. (Chimineas Street In Northridge, California.) Just a house to anyone else but much more to me, of course.

I played Frisbee with my brother (now gone) in the summer on that grass.

I helped my dad (now gone) wash his car in that driveway.

My dog Skipper (a black terrier mix) pulled me on my skateboard down that sidewalk.

I planted a pine sapling in the front lawn because it was growing by a block wall and I knew it would be pulled out and thrown away when it got too big. It is now that giant pine tree on the right. It’s a strange thing to be able to climb a tree you planted. (One of those things that lets you know you’ve been around a while.)

I rushed home from school at Darby Elementary to eat scooter pies and watch Scooby Doo in that living room.

My brother and I shared the bedroom on the left. My bed was by the window. I used to look at the stars and pray, certain God heard every word. Lots of comics read under the covers with a flashlight, too.

I would trade a year for five minutes in that house again, at that time, with my brother and father. So much changes, and memories can be so clear that decades feel like days, even minutes.

Those of you who have lived long enough to know what I mean, have a listen to this song by my favorite singer/songwriter, David Wilcox. I think you’ll like it.


4 thoughts on “Just a House

  1. I was reading this and in front of my eyes were passing those very special ‘ordinary’ places of happy and funny memories with my daughter Evie (not with us anymore). I have to confess you made me cry. The most ordinary things and places obtain forever meaning through our memories. Thank you Mark for unexpected positive tears x

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks, Ieva. “The most ordinary things and places obtain forever meaning through our memories.” So beautifully said. Wishing you peace.


  2. Hey Rick, I also went to Darby and grew up at Chiminaes and Lahey St. Your memories were Spot on in that Neighborhood. Your Headline caught my eye because when my parents were gone, the house was “just a house” without them.

    Liked by 1 person

    • So true. Sorry to hear you lost your parents. My father passed away five years ago, and my brother twenty years ago. One of the many blessings of childhood – and why it is such an idyllic time – is the inability to predict or know about the losses that inevitably come later. Nice to meet you, Matt. Thanks for reading (and understanding.) 🙂


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