I think that old adage is true when they say you can never go home again, in this case it’s the family cottage, the one I spent all my summers growing up until my mom sold it in my early twenties. Today, my mom and I passed by it and it broke my heart. The once well taken care of and beloved cottage is now a broken down abandoned rotten shell. 

I took a moment to let the memories of yesteryears flow through me. At once I recalled all the hours spent playing cards in the closed in porch we called the sunroom, the tiny kitchen where my grandmother baked bread or pies and the smell of her delicious baked goods brought me back to my childhood to a time of me running across the crooked floors to pilfer a tasty treat and retreat alas the squeaky doors would always give me away. 

It’s bittersweet to realize that all these memories will always be with me even if the brick and mortar building may no longer be standing.