What happened?

This is the apartment where I lived with my parents in Rotterdam, Galjootstraat 18b. Our home was on the second floor and when we moved in it had just been built.  It had no paint peeling off the balcony, no dirty windows, no trash in the hall and stairs and it was definitely in a very nice part of town.  When coming back  over 50 years later, this was the scene as you see it.  Not only old but tattered and worn.  The flower pots hanging from the railings have been replaced by satellite dishes for the owners to receive Turkish T.V.  The trash cans are now abandoned and allowed to roll down the street along with the garbage that should have been picked up. For our own safety we were even advised to stay away from the neighbor hood at night.  

When I was about nine years old my Father made me a pair of stilts.  I was so very proud of myself because I could make it clear across the street without falling off.   I though I had conquered the world.  For some reason, the whole place has shrunk (probably because of all the rain).  Strange how life changes over time.  Our memories are usually so different from reality and maybe that is good. If only we could just remember the good times and forget the bad but then when would we learn all those lessons that were so custom made for us?

Going back there was probably good but I don't want to return.  Life goes on and looking forward to better days is  probably best.