I lived a five minute walk from my current workplace most of my life. From the move when I was three until I was nearly 26, this town was home. So, it’s nice, in away, that I still work in a familiar place and see the same people and same sights that are from my childhood, teenage and young adult years.
Today, I glanced out the window and saw a young mom pushing a stroller down the hill and it sent my mind back in time twenty years. There’s seven year old me, taking walks to the playground. Mom pushing the current baby in the stroller, the rest of us running ahead or trailing behind and we’re all walking down that same sidewalk I see through the window across from my desk.
It’s funny, this different perspective and I find my mind trying to reach far back enough to remember the impressions these buildings, factory smokestacks and gates made on my childhood self. I remember being both terrified and mesmerized by the river rushing over the dam and wishing my siblings wouldn’t lean so far over the railing of the bridge. I remember walking down the sidewalk, past parking lots of cars and wondering what that building was behind them, behind the gates and a row of tall, reaching pine trees.
Today, my co-workers and I will stop and take a glance out the window, especially if kids are walking down to the playground. I waved to my own siblings and mom a few weeks ago, as they made their way to that same playground. And I wonder, I honestly do wonder, who sat at my desk and if she liked to people-watch, too, only twenty years ago when playgrounds weren’t plastic and I hadn’t the faintest idea what it was like to be Grown-Up and work for a living.