I hail from Staten Island, New York, a place I often describe as the borough that time forgot—and there’s truth in that. While I always knew that things remained relatively unchanged, it wasn’t until I spent four years away that I truly grasped how little had shifted.
I never imagined that I would return to my hometown, let alone raise my son here. It’s not that my childhood neighborhood was a bad place; rather, I felt I had outgrown it and couldn’t see it as the backdrop for my child’s upbringing. Yet, here I am, back in my familiar surroundings, and there’s an undeniable comfort in witnessing the minimal changes. The bakery I visited daily after school is still there, the corner barbershop remains unchanged, and the hardware store continues to operate as it always has.
Though some businesses have come and gone, I still have fond memories of what used to exist. I recall the Sri Lankan restaurant that was once a dry cleaners where my friend’s mother worked, and the laundromat that used to be a health food store selling my favorite sparkling soda. Unfortunately, the hair salon I frequented as a child just closed last month.
Many of the spots I share with my son are the same ones that filled my childhood with joy. It’s magical to see him enjoy these places as much as I did. Most of our adventures are close to home, with a playground and library within walking distance, providing ample opportunities for fun.
I spent countless hours at the library, diving into books and attending special events. As a kid, I was an avid reader, always leaving with a small stack of the latest Baby-Sitters Club novels. My son, being younger, isn’t quite as enthusiastic about reading yet, but he loves our library outings, asking to visit at least twice a week to enjoy the play area—an improvement since my childhood. Sometimes, he picks a book, and I find myself in a beanbag chair surrounded by familiar shelves, reminiscing about how enchanting I found it then.
He absolutely adores outdoor play, requesting trips to the playground almost daily. The one we visit most often is the same one I remember going to with my dad. On adventurous days, we take the bus to another park I cherished as a child, and it brings me comfort to see that neither park has changed much over the last two decades.
I’m convinced that the giant slide at the further playground is the very same one I slid down for hours as a child. My son has recently become brave enough to go down solo, and I stand at the bottom, just like my mom did. We swing together, him on my lap, as he urges, “Higher Mommy! Let’s go fast!” His little hands cling to the chains as he squeals with delight.
After our playtime, we stroll by the lake, sharing Cheerios with the geese and ducks—always the highlight of our outing. In the summer, he enjoys playing in the sprinklers, right where I remember slipping and scraping my knees as a kid.
Of all the places we visit, our top choice is the Children’s Museum. I’m not exaggerating when I say it feels almost identical to how I remember it. While some features have changed, the room he loves most (and I did too!) remains unchanged. It’s called “Block Harbor,” filled with blocks, a cozy reading nook, and the bow of a giant ship.
Walking into that room with him felt like time traveling. The colors were the same, the ship was unchanged, and I even recognized the familiar smell. Nostalgia washed over me in waves as we played together in what was once my favorite spot. It’s usually where we spend most of our time, and I’ve had to carry him out in tears when closing time arrives. At times, he seems so different from me, yet moments like these remind me just how alike we are.
It fills me with joy to share these cherished moments and revisit the places etched in my memory through his perspective. For me, they’re old memories, but for him, they’re new adventures. He can’t quite believe that these are the same locations from my childhood, and I hope he holds onto these memories, maybe even returning one day with his own children to share the tales of where he grew up.
Although my hometown wasn’t where I envisioned my life would lead me at this stage, I’m grateful to create and share these special moments with my son as we journey through my past together.