"I'll beat your steam drill down, down, down. Beat your steam drill down"
Tomorrow we head back to Providence, another long ride on the Crescent Line. I just wanted to post something short this afternoon. I thought, very much, that today I'd be ready to head back, and I'm surprised to find that I'm not. The sun, the sky, the heat, the clouds, the quality of light, the trees, the mountains - modest Appalachian foothills though they are - all are conspiring to make me wish I could stay.
This afternoon, late, we drove past the old junior high school (there's now a new junior high school), the school I attended for sixth, seventh, and eighth grade, 1975-1978. These days it's being used as a sort of community center, though, looking through the windows, it seemed completely unchanged since that day I last set foot in it, thirty-six years ago. The old lunch room was empty, missing all the tables and chairs and serving lines. But the rest seemed unchanged. Too many things have changed, so that was a comfort.
The next entry I make, I'll be back in Providence.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast
This afternoon, late, we drove past the old junior high school (there's now a new junior high school), the school I attended for sixth, seventh, and eighth grade, 1975-1978. These days it's being used as a sort of community center, though, looking through the windows, it seemed completely unchanged since that day I last set foot in it, thirty-six years ago. The old lunch room was empty, missing all the tables and chairs and serving lines. But the rest seemed unchanged. Too many things have changed, so that was a comfort.
The next entry I make, I'll be back in Providence.
Later Taters,
Aunt Beast