It`s been eighteen years since I`ve been here. And from the weathered appearance of my former residence, it shows. I turn the corner and I keep waiting to see 8539`s pretty lawn that used to mow every weekend. (At ten, I thought it was fun to do yard work.) But the trees and lawn have been slowing dying for a while and the only things well-preserved are the exterior`s white painted bricks. I remember liking that they were painted because I used to hate the color of brick. It`s not alone in its unkemptness. It seems most of the housing community has been left to rest in peace, and the few places that have been taken care of stick out like a star athlete in a nursing home and add insult to injury. I remember when, take a few pictures, and leave minutes later. It was never fully home. (I lived there only a year.) I`m not sad, I just like the images in my head much better.