We moved around a lot while I was growing up, but I've always considered Beaumont to be my real hometown. I only live an hour away from there now, but I hardly ever go back. I haven't been there since a couple of Christmases ago, so I haven't even seen it since Hurricane Rita.
Sometimes hometowns are hard to back to. There are a number of ghosts in Beaumont (and I'm not necessarily talking about my grandmother's haunted house) that I'd really rather avoid.
But home is home and I still feel drawn to go back. Here is a picture of our house in Beaumont. I can assure you that there was no camper in the front yard when we lived there. Maybe the people who live there now never got their power back on after Rita. Who knows. Also, the house was red when we lived there. It was the red house on Redwood Drive. We moved in right before my 7th grade year and my parents moved out a year after I got married.
See that little window above the bush? That was my bathroom window. My high school boyfriend used to park down the street and walk up to the window at night after my curfew. I would stand on the toilet so we could kiss through the window. Romantic, huh?
It looks like the house had some roof damage from Rita, and I also notice the trees aren't as lush as they were back in my day. I really had a lot of fun growing up in Beaumont, but I am so glad we were long gone when that storm hit.
One more memory of that house that I'll tie in with a True Confession: A few nights before my wedding, my dad and I sat out in the driveway and smoked a cigar. First and last cigar of my life. Not so sure about Dad. It was pretty disgusting. But memorable.