My street fills me with nostalgia and memories of youth, when all that mattered was riding my bike, friends, and jumping into piles of leaves. I havn’t lived on a street like this in so many years. I’m used to track housing, palm trees, and names like Meadowview or Temeku Hills. My neighborhood is old. It has earned its character through many winters, and changes, history…I forgot what it was like to live in a place where the buildings where built before 1970. Some of these old Victorian homes have been around since the Civil War. Sometimes living in a community where everything is brand new and shiny makes you a little sick. If something can be built so fast and thrown up into existence, perhaps it didn’t take much discipline to obtain it. My neighborhood was around when Americans went off to war, families grew up, and people lived their whole lives in one home watching the city change, take shape and develop its personalty. Soldiers came back from war, and started a family. Their children had children, and some of the very people i see walking on the sidewalks may very well be children of legacies, that lived in the very homes i pass daily as i walk my dog. I see so much more than a bunch of of homes, i see history here. I really like my street.