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Wordless Wednesday: Can I Haz Some?!?

Remembering Union Street

7 years ago (next month) I sold my childhood home (approx. 30 minutes outside of NYC) and moved my parents "down the shore" to live in "the village" or what my kids warmly refer to as "Camp Mama and Papa."

Union Street Lamp
So, a week before the move, we took our kids up for one last visit and my husband started to take a couple of random pictures.

Union Street Arbor
At first, I couldn't quite understand why.  Although, yes, the gardens were magnificent and often times my parents would receive compliments from passersby.

Union Street Patio
My kids grew up here visiting with their grandparents nearly every Sunday and yet I couldn't help but look forward to watching each of them (and us) make many more memorable moments in Mama and Papa's shiney new home.

Union Street Front Yard
The last I heard, the house on Union Street was being rented (AGAIN!) and, living 90 minutes away, my parents sometimes STILL visit, insisting that, you know, they just happened to be in the neighborhood.

A few weeks ago, I drove up north to run a few errands (okay, only one, the Hungarian butcher is still there, enough said) and did EXACTLY what I told my parents NOT to do.

I drove up Union Street, right passed the house and, I swear, I could hear my heart break a little. 

The foot bridge, the lamp post, the rose-covered arbor, the greenhouse that my father built using leftover materials recycled from various landscaping job sites, it was ALL gone. 

I did NOT recognize it, anymore.

Today, I'm heading out to check on my parents (my dad tore a ligament in his "good arm," yesterday) but, not before I make a quick stop for them at the Hungarian butcher...ONLY!

Union Street House

So, yeah, thank you, Garth (NHRN) this is EXACTLY how I will always remember Union Street.

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