I had some supplies to pick up at an industrial supply house this evening, which is in the far end of my home town. I took the short-cut I knew, to save some time and avoid the evening traffic from the local refineries.
My route led me through downtown...or what was once downtown. Little was left, except the numerous empty buildings; a testament to days long gone; boarded window, decay and the memories of those left to remember.
I tried to look for landmarks, but found few. The old businesses were long gone; not even a sign to show where they were. The banks - once majestic, with the names carved into the marble - were as empty and desolate as the rest of what once was a thriving center of commerce.
I picked up my supplies and decided to take a drive through town.
As I drove, I examined the same streets once part of times long gone. Neat, trimmed lawns were few to be found, unlike when I was young. Grass grew over the curbs of streets in need of repair. Houses, once fresh painted, were now empty, or long worn and neglected. Closed businesses marked where too many succumbed to age, quit trying or moved on.
Memories swarmed and filled the emptiness I was feeling. Instead of the decay, I was seeing the past, when the cicadas buzzed in the lazy summer evenings. Children played, while fathers cut the yard. People waved, smiled and you knew you were safe if were to walk down any street. As quick as they came, the memories soon disappeared. Unhappy thoughts soon filled my mind.
The more I drove, the darker my thoughts. It was as though something precious was stolen; the thieves cloaked in politics and corruption; my hometown stricken with disease, dying a slow death and would eventually be nothing but long stretches of desolation and despair.
I pushed the thoughts aside and headed for a grocery store to buy a few items I needed. As I pulled into the parking lot, the radio played:
"Rainy days, dream away
Let the sun take a holiday."
I looked to the north and saw the deep blue line of approaching thunderstorms. Rain was coming, and I needed to hurry.
As I stepped from my truck, the hot wind swirled the smell of hot asphalt, with fresh cut grass and I was returned to my youth. Memories swirled once again and I decided I would gather them close and hold them as long as they would last.
In Case You've Wondered
My blog is where my wandering thoughts are interspersed with stuff I made up. So, if while reading you find yourself confused about the context, don't feel alone. I get confused, too.
If you're here for the stories, I started another blog: scratchingforchange.blogspot.com
One other thing: sometimes I write words you refuse to use in front of children, or polite company, unless you have a flat tire, or hit your thumb with a hammer.
I don't use them to offend; I use them to embellish.