Sometimes a photograph placed in ones hand sparks a memory long ago forgotten and over the miles and miles of roads that I have traveled, an image resonates that can’t be freed until it is written on the page. A photograph contained within a scrapbook is one of many artifacts of a life created by a mother who gathered these treasures for all of her children.
Across the street on Prospect Hill, a white house stood next to a big red barn. And inside that white house eighteen of us posed in the back room of Mrs. Coffey’s home at the age of five. Interestingly enough, I remember all but two. A by-product of what happens when you live your kid-life in the same northern town.
The white house next to be big red barn is where we went to “school” and though the details of this time are shadow sketches, there are glimpses of what I know to be true.
In that same room where the photograph was taken, right before you entered the enclosed back porch was “the bright red chair”. Now that was something special, or it was believed to be at the time. It was the place of honor and Patty, Mitchell, Dean, Laurie, Nancy and Dolores; Keith, Randy Margaret and Karen; John, Paul, Lauren, Jane, Rhonda and Theresa wanted to be sitting there.
I’m sure I had my chance.
Some things never change. In my house, I, too, have a favorite chair that I sit in to write the shadow sketches of a life: my life. What about you? .....until next time-Teach.
Across the street on Prospect Hill, a white house stood next to a big red barn. And inside that white house eighteen of us posed in the back room of Mrs. Coffey’s home at the age of five. Interestingly enough, I remember all but two. A by-product of what happens when you live your kid-life in the same northern town.
The white house next to be big red barn is where we went to “school” and though the details of this time are shadow sketches, there are glimpses of what I know to be true.
In that same room where the photograph was taken, right before you entered the enclosed back porch was “the bright red chair”. Now that was something special, or it was believed to be at the time. It was the place of honor and Patty, Mitchell, Dean, Laurie, Nancy and Dolores; Keith, Randy Margaret and Karen; John, Paul, Lauren, Jane, Rhonda and Theresa wanted to be sitting there.
I’m sure I had my chance.
Some things never change. In my house, I, too, have a favorite chair that I sit in to write the shadow sketches of a life: my life. What about you? .....until next time-Teach.
1 comment:
They had cameras back then?
Just kidding. Glad to see your blog alive again.
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