ghost walk

My daily dog walk takes me along a path and through this arch. This is the walkway next to busy Crowchild Trail, a Calgary freeway, an unlikely place that is steeped in personal memories. There used to be houses here, specifically the one where I spent my early childhood. My parents brought me home from the hospital to a grey stuccoed house that stood here. My arrival completed the family of four - mum, dad, my older brother, plus me. Now I’m the last one standing. When I walk here, I am greeted by ghosts and memories: playing in the backyard, learning to ride my Mustang bike, packing up our ’55 Pontiac for a rare family holiday, and sitting at the kitchen table while my parents hear the news of my uncle and cousin’s death in a car accident. After many decades living elsewhere in Canada and in another part of town, we bought a house four blocks away. After all these years, I never expected to return to this neighbourhood. It’s bittersweet.