800 E. Center St.

I didn't go to church this morning. Right before I left I went to my email to send my co-teacher some information about lesson plans for tomorrow, and I received the following email from my mom:

It is about 2 a.m. here. I just came in the house to get warm for a minute. Sarah and Dan's house is burning down. We gave Vickie our car to take Abbie to Vickie's mom's because she cannot get theirs out of the garage.. Abbie is a wreck. The house has been burning for about two hours. I really do not know what else to say. Very sad. Love you, Mom

Living just two doors down, Sarah and Dan were like grandparents to me and my brother, and Morgan, Evan, and Lizzie next door. Sarah babysat us when we were little and watched over us when we were sick and Mom and Dad had to go to work. Our parents were always over there or they were always over here. Every single day Sarah and Dan and my parents would sit and talk somewhere. If it was nice outside, it would be on their patio around the picnic table. If it was semi-nice, it would be in the little nook just off of the kitchen. And, in the winter, it would be around their dining room table. There were Christmas Eve gatherings and New Years Eve parties and cookouts and birthday parties. Sarah collected pigs, and I would periodically count every pig in the house to keep an accurate tally of just how many pig figurines she had. I remember Dan helping me make a wooden lute for a school project down in the basement. We played flashlight tag and ghost in the graveyard in their backyard, cards in their den, and hide and seek throughout their entire house.

During my sophomore year in high school, Sarah and Dan moved back to the Rockford area in order to be closer to their kids and grandkids. Still, Sarah and Dan came back for my high school graduation, my brother's high school graduation, and other important events along the way. They have still been part of our neighborhood, and though they've been away for over ten years, their house stood as a monument to the memories we shared there.

It's sad. Time is marching on in a hurry, and, no matter how deep my sentimental attachment, time and nature is dealing its blows. So, goodbye 726 E. Center St. Thank you, Father, for the love and the memories that were provided in that house.