I almost miss the turn because everything looks different now.
The ancient willow that guarded the corner is gone, its lawn totally devoid of the thing that dominated it in my childhood.
I hear her shift in the back seat.
“That your old school?” my daughter asks.
“No,” I say towards the rear-view mirror, “ that was past your Grandmother’s house.”
We won’t visit it, because I had no intention of sightseeing.
Quick stop at the house, get what I need signed, back to the main road, up to the highway and we’re gone again, to cheeseburgers and then home.
The ancient willow that guarded the corner is gone, its lawn totally devoid of the thing that dominated it in my childhood.
I hear her shift in the back seat.
“That your old school?” my daughter asks.
“No,” I say towards the rear-view mirror, “ that was past your Grandmother’s house.”
We won’t visit it, because I had no intention of sightseeing.
Quick stop at the house, get what I need signed, back to the main road, up to the highway and we’re gone again, to cheeseburgers and then home.
