The sweet scent of honeysuckle and roses, now and then overpowered by the chokingly pungent odor of the blossoms of a surviving red haw tree, wafted on the ever so gentle breeze.  We lived in a recently developed neighborhood where some old houses, the kind with front porches and a second story, sat scattered amongst the newer, smaller ones and vacant lots.  There was a variety of house styles throughout the area but many were variants of particular styles. 

My parents came to Ohio from southern Kentucky to honor us with a visit for a few days.  They really came to get acquainted with their grandchildren.  They enjoyed talking with the kids and playing their games.  We even did a little adult visiting when the kids were not available.  After a couple of days when the novelty of grandparenting became less novel Daddy became restless of being cooped up in and around the house.  There was no television to watch.  He announced that he was going to walk around the neighborhood and that he would be back in an hour or so.  It was another perfect day for a stroll. 

He started down the street noting that there were no sidewalks and hardly any traffic except on the highway at the edge of the neighborhood.  Across the highway lay a cemetery, a quiet place, with no sign of life.  He explored several streets noting the few vacant lots.  He saw young native trees and shrubs grown on farmland, abandoned years earlier. 

Having satisfied his urge to get out of the house, he found the street from which he started his walk.  He followed the street a way and turned into a driveway and entered the front door of the house. 

“Looks familiar but they must have rearranged the furniture while I was gone.  I didn’t think I was gone that long”, he mused. 

“Hello Mr. Jessee,” a voice sounded from the kitchen, “Have a seat, I’m Jean McCracken.  I’ve seen you next door.  You’re visiting your son aren’t you?” 

“Uh, yes we’re visiting a few days.  I’m sorry; I mistook this for his house.  I’m really embarrassed.  I guess I must not have been paying attention to where I was going.  The house looks the same,” Daddy said sheepishly, “Again, my apologies.” 

“Don’t worry about it.  Have a nice visit with your family.” 

“Thank you,” he said and crossed the lawn to the gray house next door, noticing that the one he had just left was brown.  Before he went in he cautiously knocked on the door. 

Mary met him at the door.  “You’re back, did you have a nice walk?” 

“I did. Got lost before I got back.  Met your neighbor next door.  Nice woman.  It is a really lovely day for a walk.  Oh yeah, I’ve got to remember you live in the gray house.