1) The living room in my house is a place where I spent most of my early childhood, and during the holiday season my entire family often congregated there. Some of my earliest memories of my older brother before he became an unmotivated hippie happened in that room, so it’s a sort of refuge for remembering the past now. We almost always put the Christmas tree in the living room too, so there’s those sentimental memories.
2) The ruins of the Funkstown Electric Park, a small walk away from my house, are a fairly recent memory. Though there’s nothing left but a rusty bridge support and a few concrete foundations from the various attractions, it led me to interview one of the oldest residents of Funkstown who recalled her memories of the park. I went back to the ruins once and I was able to draw in my mind an image of what the park looked like. It’s a quiet, secluded space that used to be one of the main attractions of Funkstown and the surrounding areas, though now it exists only in memories. It’s a strange feeling when someone’s memories get passed down to yourself, but I am glad I got to experience something that I wouldn’t have otherwise, even if it was merely in words.
3) The old poplar tree in the field far behind my house holds memories too. It’s the tallest tree in the area, and there is nothing but wildlife around it, so it’s a sort of “getting back to nature” for me. Today, some of the branches have fallen due to storms and other natural occurrences, but I see that as nature just being nature. I remember when a nearby tree was completely felled due to lightning and another had to be removed by our front driveway because it was rotting from the inside, but of all of the trees near our house the poplar is the only one that doesn’t succumb to anything. It’s a sort of reminder that I can stand through anything if I try, so it’s a nice motivational memory.
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