We moved from the farm that I grew up on to a bigger one in 1959. 40 years later I went back there, the old two story house, the barn that dad built, the 4 bin grainery, the slat corn crib that dad built, the chicken house, the shed, that we ground feed in one end, parked the car in the middle, and dads little shop on the other were gone. The hog houses, cattle shed, the huge oak that we stacked fire wood under, and used its shade to husk sweet corn under, gone. A guy told me who owned the place, didn't live far, I went over, told him who I was, and that I had grown up on that place, and if it would be ok to walk around the place. He said sure, I had my dog with me so just like so many many years ago, I was once more home walking, watching my dog explore, seeing some of the old trees still there.
But it wasn't the same, the pond was gone, the ditch that we played in was a grassway, but when I left I couldn't began to haul in my truck all the memories that had come back.