The Acres

The year was 1991. My youngest brother was a year old. We were still living on Flores street in a home that to this day I still have dreams of. Why my father ever tore down that house on Flores to make apartments, I will never understand. There's a deep, throbbing pain knowing that I can't even drive by the house to remember the fun times my siblings and I had. Anyways, that's another issue altogether. What I want to focus on now is this here little house on the out skirts of Laredo. At some point, this was my father's pride and joy. He, along with another man, built this house with their own hands. They didn't get any help from anyone else and they did it during the summer. Can you imagine? Summer out in the desert? Yea, my father bragged about the days he spent tolling out in the sweltering heat to built this here house. The funny thing is, we never even lived in it. This was our 'weekend' home. I guess it was as luxurious as we could get, or as much as our father would allow us. As kids, we spent many a weekend there. We saw it as an absolute bore because we didn't have TV, phones, or worse AC. Lack of the AC alone made us beg and cry for our parents to leave us at home. Those tears and whiny cries fell on deaf ears; we were always made to go. Now as adults, we appreciate what my father was trying to do for his children. He set aside 20 acres of land for us somewhere in this world. Unfortunately, with life being so hectic, we don't find the time too often to go and spent time at the 'family ranch' but we know that it's there. Recently we went and gave the good ol' house a visit. Fun times. I wish it was '91 again and my parents still had to drag us everywhere. Damn.