It used to be a nice street. You always had to be careful driving through. Kids, pets, old folks. There used to be tire swings in some of the backyards here. Sometimes a basketball hoop. And everybody knew the mailman. It used to be a nice street.
Some days you’d walk down the sidewalk and you could close your eyes and pretend you were on a big city sidewalk. You know the kind of big city that attracts people from all over the world. The kind of big city that has food cooking from all over the world 24 hours every day. Dinnertime especially smelled like an international food bazaar. It used to be a nice street.
This was the kind of street that people returned to long after they had gone. A car load of children filled with gasps pointing at one of the houses on the street as someone in the front seat gave the tour of an imaginary place made perfect by their fondest memories. It was the kind of street that created memories that lasted a lifetime and beyond. It used to be a nice street.
It isn’t a nice street anymore. The jobs moved away. The employees and the bosses fought all the time so the businesses just picked up and moved far away. After a while the people left too and there was no one to care for the street that had cared for so many. People even stopped visiting the street. It used to be such a nice street.
Every once in a while someone would lose their way and find themselves on the once nice street and remember. They would remember the young parents and the kids and the old folks and the dogs and the excited shrieks of children at play and wonder what had happened. Why did it happen? How could it have happened. It happened. It used to be a nice street.