A Raid on the Past

I was up most of the night talking to a new acquaintance. I probably could've kept talking with her until dawn. That was certainly the case with her. Just once again proving my maxim that the best girls are either taken or hundreds of miles away. There was one hiccup in our conversation after I had mentioned my father. I didn't elaborate, and thankfully she didn't press the issue. I wish I could say the same of my subconscious.
Not long after I hit the pillow, around 3:47am, I was seeing a cloudy gray sky through the window of a car. My mother and aunts were in the other seats, and we came upon the cul-de-sac that we used to live in. And there was my old house, looking much the worse for wear.
At one word from my mother we ran out of the car. My aunts and mother ran into the house, remarking at it's decrepit state. I had another target. I found the side door to the garage and picked the lock. The interior was dark and dusty. The faint lights overhead did little to help me see my way, but I saw a box on the broad platform we had at the back of the garage.
I flipped the top open and I saw my old electronic keyboard. This was something to hang on to. I pulled the box down and kept looking around. My aunt came up behind me to retrieve the keyboard and she told me to look for my trumpet. Looking around, I couldn't find the case, although did see a euphonium hanging on the wall.
The room brightened up suddenly, and out of nowhere came a bunch of little kids running around and playing. They were even outside and somehow I knew they were my father's. I ignored them, getting back to the search. I needed to grab anything of value while I still could. This wasn't my home anymore, and until I find one I'll need to hang on to whatever I can.
I opened a trunk and found a bunch of odds and ends. Mainly ancient, rusted thick iron tools. Laying on top of these was a pack of machetes, folded up in wax paper. I picked up a blade and one side was engraved with the mexican eagle, a snake in it's talon. As much as I love blades, I didn't care much for these. They were the first I handled, and a preferred tool for yard work. But these particular blades felt like the tools of a slave. I would be happy to leave the behind.
I closed the trunk and rose to my feet. I hadn't noticed before, but the garage door was open with what looked like a setting for a birthday party beyond. I looked over the cake and party favors. It was probably for the kids that were running around outside.
I walked back out of the garage into the backyard. This place hadn't changed much, the grass was still green and vibrant, the thorn bush at the door was still growing out of control. And the patio seemed as smudged and dirty as it did when I left. A little boy ran into me from the side. I looked down at him and our eyes met. He kind of reminded me of myself when I was younger. He ran off towards an adult that might have been my father and I awoke to the sounds of the TV from the living room.
I've left homes before. That one held more memories than most, some of which I've lost. I try my best to hang onto the ones that matter. I had to check soon after I got up, but I still have my trumpet. The keyboard is in storage.