A Return Home, Sunset Park, Brooklyn, NY

After the parade and before making their way home, Mama and her husband decided to scope out a couple of the surrounding neighborhoods in Brooklyn for potential places to live.  For weeks now she has wanted to pass by her grandparent’s former brownstone, the one she spent so much of her childhood at, and the one she hadn’t even passed by since she was 15 years old, on 44th St. across from Sunset Park.

Though both of her grandparents have been gone for quite some time now, she has been feeling a bit nostalgic about her time there.  So they drove by, unsure if she would remember the building number.  However, the minute they drove up, she knew exactly which one it was.

She ran the bell, not sure what she would say to whomever answered.  When she was a child, there was a cherry tree in the backyard where she and her cousin, whom she hasn’t seen or spoken to in years, spent endless summer hours sitting on a baseboard made by her grandfather.  He had placed this baseboard on one of the tallest, strongest branches, where by climbing a ladder he had attached, they could reach all the cherries and sit up there eating till their bellies almost hurt.

She remembers the tree very well, and all the beautiful cherries that grew from it.  She wanted to see it one more time.  She rang, and rang and no answer.

She went to the building next door, and an elderly lady, who must’ve been 80 or so, opened.  Mama greeted her in English, the woman responded in Spanish.  Mama told her how she had spent her childhood next door, and how it was more than 25 years ago, and could she please let her take a peek at the tree from her window.

Gently the woman held her hand and let her in.  She talked to Mama about the tree, and how long she had lived there (long after her grandparents had died), and how she spent endless hours alone.  She opened her kitchen window and showed her the tree.

There, in a garbage ridden backyard, Mama saw her beloved tree.  Its branches broken, its trunk riddled and weak. The strong, tall, proud branch that once helped her reach the sky had broken off, with only a rotted stump left behind.  And next to it, leaning on a fence, was the baseboard her grandfather had built, abandoned, unused.  It brought tears to her eyes, all the memories of her childhood mourning the sight.

As she wiped the tears from her eyes, she hugged the woman, and thanked her for her kindness.  The woman welcomed her back anytime. And she almost wished she could come back and keep the kind old woman company.

Before Mama left, she rang the bell yet one more time at her former home.  This time a much younger, American woman, answered.  ”Yes?” she asked looking at her skeptically.

“Hi.  I wonder if the owner is here, or landlord. I grew up here and I wanted to maybe take a closer look at the cherry tree in the yard?” Mama blurted out, knowing the request was strange.

“Um, well…he’s not here. Leave a note on the door, he’s hard to reach,” replied the woman.

“Ok, well, can I just peek at the hallway, I don’t want to come in I just need to see it…for me,” Mama insisted.

“Ok, well…” the woman hesitated, “but I’m not letting you in because I don’t know if you are crazy.”

Mama almost laughed.  She knew she sounded crazy, but she peeked in and saw the stairs where she and her cousin played hide and seek, and the hall where they often walked through.

“Thank you,” Mama said before she walked away.

She doesn’t plan on returning.  Those things that made this her home are no longer there, but rather in her heart and mind. Cherries, tree, and all.

 

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Tags: NY Parks
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