Wednesday was Patty Lou's clinic appointment. She has one about every three months for a check-up and to get her prescriptions renewed. Since we still had ice and snow on the roadways, I drove her to work and picked her up for her after work appointment. I knew it would take awhile so I sat in the car waiting for her. I'd rather be there than in the noisy clinic.
The clinic sits on property that had two beautiful old homes on it. Probably built in the early 1900's, you could tell that someone with money had them built by the style they were built in. They were huge, and all you had to do was walk in the door and see the grandiose staircase's leading to the second floors and you knew that someone of class lived there when built. Although they had been vacant for many years, it was a shame that they were destroyed in the early '70's for the clinic to be built.
The parking lot for the clinic had two houses that were torn down for it to be made also. One was a duplex, the other was a single family home. They were not like the other two. They were just plain homes, homes built about the same time but built for someone on a workman's wage. Functional.
I sat in the parking lot remembering days long past. The neighborhood kids and I searching through the rooms of the big houses. Skateboarding on the sidewalks, playing baseball on the too crowded narrow street. I remember this because the sign for the clinic shows the address being "133 Arbor St." When I was 11 years old (1965) I lived at 137 Arbor St., the address of one of the houses. When I was 12 years old (1966) I lived at 133 Arbor St. The address of the other torn down. I never got to live in one of the big houses.
Oh. And I also remembered putting on an old ball type gown (black and shimmery gold) I had found in one of the big houses and showing the neighborhood kids.
Those were the days....