Tuesday, January 19, 2010

Memories of my Street

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The old street I grew up on.

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I can see a little barefoot girl whenever I walk down this street. Blonde hair in pigtails, a huge smile on her face and she skipping down the street to the creek, or the school, or her cousins.

I like to think she still running wild and free on this street.

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My old home looks so small.

How can one tiny house hold so many precious memories?

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