I’m driving at night in my old neighborhood of Township Park. It’s very dark, almost pitch black. There is no moon light nor are there street lights or lights from any houses. The light from my headlights doesn’t seem to carry more than a few feet in front of me. It’s as if the darkness is absorbing all light. There is no sound either like the darkness was muffling and absorbing the sound too. The scene is quite eerie.
I’m driving north on Hardy Road, toward the park and the lake (Lake Erie). I turn right onto what I believe is Sycamore Drive. I can’t be sure because it’s difficult, if not impossible, to read the street signs. Down the road I can see the flashing blue lights of a Sheriff’s patrol car. As I slowly drive past it, I see no sign of a deputy. The patrol car is the only other vehicle I’ve seen.
After passing the patrol car, I turn right onto a side street which takes me deeper into the darkened neighborhood. I don’t know what street it is because I don’t remember the names of many of the side streets and I can’t read the street signs at the top of the sign posts. But I’m pretty sure that after a few turns I will be on Shady Lane which will lead me to Oakwood Boulevard, the street where I grew up.
I make a left turn onto what I believe is a street that will take in in the general direction of my childhood home but I find myself in what appears to be a small park. There are high-backed concrete benches all around me. There was nothing like this in the neighborhood when I was growing up here. I stop and I sit in the darkness. I feel completely lost in a place I once knew intimately.