Sy Road

While in 9th grade, my normal bus route was combined with another route for a day. We ran the other route first. The bus stopped at 7000 Sy Road and a boy, who I did not know, jumped up from the seat behind me and walked down the aisle to get off. It took all of my might to not follow him.

I hadn’t been inside the house since I was 6, but it was still “my house”, not his. It was my bedroom at the end of the upstairs hallway where I would read stories at night. The room off the kitchen was my playroom where I colored on the Sesame Street wallpaper. Between the two large trees in the backyard is where I would lay for hours in the hammock and watch my Dad cut the grass. And those tiny handprints pressed into the concrete near the garage? Mine.

So now what was this boat doing in the driveway? Who had built the fence surrounding the yard? Why didn’t I see my apple tree? This house wasn’t just a home to me, it was from a time before complications.

Many times throughout high school and even college I would have dreams about “going home”, and it was always to the house on Sy Road. Everything about that house is still clear in my mind.

I recently found an email my Dad sent me in 2005 –

Hi Pumpkin,
What's new?
I took Grandma to the Summit Park Mall yesterday so she could try driving for the first time since her knee surgery. We passed by the old house and Grandma said it looked like they were having a garage sale. We decided to stop. Todd and I went in while Grandma stayed in the car.
I was looking around and on the floor were two motorcycle helmets. The guy said they were old and we could have them for a $1.00 each. I said “the white one cost me whole lot more than a dollar when I bought it new at age 16!”
He looked at me and said, "Are you Mark?" Apparently he was the guy that bought the house from us in 1991. I left a lot of stuff at the house when we moved out because I couldn't take everything to Pittsburgh and we didn't get the house on Ruie till another 6 months later.
He gave me the helmet and the other one as well. It was Mom's. Todd took it home for Mom yesterday.
He took us in for a quick tour of the house. Todd said he wished you had been there.
So, 14 years later, I got my only helmet I ever had, its back in the basement as a bar decoration and "antique". After all, it's 34 years old!
Well, almost lunch time.
Just thought I'd pass along that little story.
Type you later.
Love,
Dad

Truth be told, I’m thankful I wasn’t there. If I would have toured the house as it is now, it would no longer be “mine”, the realization of it belonging to someone else would be real.

So here it is, my house, as I remember it.