I pass the house all the time.
I watched as the changes began to happen.
I saw that the land in the back of the property was cleared.
I saw a vegetable garden.

It is not easy to look at this house when I drive past.
It sits on a corner of a three way intersection.
The stop sign at this corner says, right turn keep moving.
Since this is the way to the main road, I am always turning right.

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It was a rite of passage.
It was a day for which all of my children longed.
Their sixteenth birthday could not come fast enough.
Turning sixteen meant that they could apply for their learner’s permit.

Our state has a law that a driver with a learner’s permit has to log their driving hours.
They have to drive in all conditions.
The driver cannot take their driver’s test until six months has passed.
That six months time period felt like an eternity to my children.

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A former high school classmate posted a picture on social media.
It was a picture of my high school auditorium.
I would recognize that room anywhere.
This classmate is now a teacher at the same high school.

Memories came flooding back.
I spent so much time in that auditorium.
Many of us spent countless hours there.
That is where our high school musicals were held.

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The bus passed me on my walk.
The bus driver gave a friendly toot on the horn as he passed.
I actually see quite a few buses in the morning.
Even in our small neighborhood of twenty-four houses, four different buses come through.

I like seeing the children at the bus stops.
High school, middle school, sixth grade center, and elementary school leave at different times.
It was the boys at the sixth grade center bus stop that made me smile.
Watching them as I passed by made my morning.

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I always like to look at the pins they wear on their aprons.
It is fun to read them as I stand in line at the grocery store.
Some cashiers have many.
Some have only a few.

It brings me back to the days when I wore pins.
I wore quite a lot of them.
It was the only thing that was allowed to be different.
It was the only way to express myself, within reason.

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I saw the fawn on the road.
It was dead.
It had been hit by a car.
Blood encircled the fawn like a wreath.

I could see the spots that are the tell-tale sign of its age.
I wondered if the driver even knew they hit the fawn.
I wondered if it happened during the early morning hours.
I wondered how the mother deer must be feeling.

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I remember the red box.
It was on the shelf in my closet.
The closet was in the bedroom I had when I was a girl.
I could not think of a time when the box was not there.

Other things were on top of the box.
The box was long and rectangular in shape.
I remember the day I got a foot stool so I could take it down and open it.
I wanted to know what was inside.

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It was a lovely summer night.
The humidity was much lower.
The air was a bit cooler.
It was the perfect kind of night to eat dinner on the deck.

Some people eat outside every night.
However, me and humidity are not friends.
Early morning is delightful on my deck or my side porch.
However the heat of the day is something I choose to avoid.

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It has a been a month of refreshment.
I have never taken off an entire month before.
I wondered if I would miss the daily discipline of putting thoughts to paper.
Actually, if truth be told, putting thoughts to keyboard.

The rest was necessary.
One of the four weeks was a family vacation in North Carolina.
Then there was the blessing of watching one of our granddaughters for another week.
There were surprise birthday parties for friends to attend; there was time to be still.

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I saw a picture that someone posted right before the 4th of July.
It brought back so many memories.
Under the picture were a few words.
This is how we celebrated the 4th of July.

The picture was so familiar to me.
Anyone my age would remember.
The picture was of a bike wheel.
Just looking at the picture brought a sound to mind.

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