My Childhood - Original Writing Essay

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Every once in a while, something reminds me of my childhood – perhaps a name, a memory, a smell, a picture - who knows what brings the memories into my head? But recently, a memory came back with the sounds, smells, tastes, and sights that I hadn’t experienced in about 45 years. Those memories comfort me, but now smoke clouds my treasured past. Almost two years ago, my last uncle passed away. That was the end of the older generation for me. I cherish the moments I spent with him the summer before he died. My brother and I visited him at our cousin’s home. He was in bed but alert with his usual humor that I remember from childhood. Shortly after our visit, Uncle Roy passed away. On the day of his burial, the procession drove from the funeral home to the cemetery. Along the way, we passed the street on which he and my aunt first lived so many years ago. As we passed Yale Avenue in Johnston, I looked up to see the house, a bungalow with a bundle of memories. I ignored those memories and concentrated on the death of my uncle. Those memories didn’t stay suppressed long. A year after Uncle Roy died, his son, my cousin Richard, passed away. As we traveled the same route from the funeral home to the cemetery, I again looked up the hill to Aunt Betty and Uncle Roy’s house, the first one on the right. But the house had changed in a year. A short year ago I had noticed changes: the new driveway, the vinyl siding, and the white picket fence. But this

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