Yesterday I had to go to the rental house- Roger's first house.
I have not been there in a long time.
My renters are fantastic and I rarely have to go to the property.
But starting at the exit off the highway.
Yes, the same highway the accident happened on.
The memories starting flying into my head.
The hundreds of times I drove this exact path to Roger's house.
The hundreds of times we drove this path together.
Driving into the neighborhood, it was strange.
Most things are the same but things are also different.
Trees are a bit taller and fuller.
More ducks are lining the street near the front.
The pavement has been redone recently.
As I drove down the street the house is on I wondered if anyone recognized my car.
I wondered if they recognized me.
I seriously doubt it but I still thought it.
I had the house painted last year so at least that looks different.
The big oak tree in the front though and the palm tree I could see from the master bath.
They are the same. Bigger, but the same.
Then when I rang the doorbell.
I almost for half a second expected Roger to come to the door.
I felt this sort of anticipation of seeing him.
I looked in the side window hoping to see him walking toward the door.
I remembered the times I would ring the doorbell even way after Roger gave me a key.
I did it as a joke.
Knowing he was probably under dressed.
I would see his feet first as he got close to the side window.
Then his skinny legs.
And his smile.
I would smile as he answered the door in his boxers and making sure no one else could see him.
"Why did you ring the doorbell?"
"No reason" as I just smiled.
I half expected him yesterday.
Except then I remembered this is not his house anymore.
And he does not live there anymore.