Last night, I was reading our hometown paper. Seems a pillar of our little community passed away this last week.

I used to babysit for this woman's grandchildren. After my dad died, I needed a job in another city, where I was living to likely try and escape. I was introduced to her daughter, who had three boys - 9, 7, and 4.

The oldest boy really kept to himself. He traded baseball cards with the other neighborhood kids and liked to check out new comic books. An introvert. The middle kid was the trouble maker. ALWAYS trying to cook something up. He poured a can of red ants down his little brother's back and shorts, causing all sorts of bites on his little bottom. The youngest one - he owned my heart. He had blond hair, blue eyes, big freckles, and when he'd talk, his K's sounded like T's. So, of course, he asked once if he could "pet my titty". I adored him.

When the big brothers were doing their own thing, K and I would head to the pond. He was always wanting to go fishing. Trouble was - there weren't any fish and there wasn't any real place to go for some. So, we devised a simple plan of a stick and gummy worms. We sat at the end of the pond, waiting to catch our elusive fish. I loved those afternoons with the boys.

After reading that their grandma died, I thought to google their mom's name in hopes of finding a new address for them. During my google hunt, I found the middle boy's myspace page.

And photos. I found new photos of these boys, and I was completely floored. They were always handsome little boys, but they are growing up to be handsome men. A sophomore in college, a high school senior and then my little K.

I cried a bit to see him growing up, next to his big brothers (and a little sister that was a 'surprise' that summer that I moved on to a nother job). It made me quite sentimental last night, and I am now looking for the old photos of them from that summer 10 years ago.