“Hometown is where our story begins.”

I am quite tired of this weather. It is chilly at 44°. The sun is just ornamental, but the deep blue sky is breathtaking. The pine branches are swaying with the breeze. I have a few chores, the same chores I’ve had on my list for a while. I just need a burst of energy.

My street is small, nine houses. One is a summer rental and another is a second house, an empty house right now. The family comes down in the summer. They have a boat. Two houses still have school age kids. Mostly retired people live in the other houses. Two of the houses still have original owners. Mine is one of them. It is quite the quiet street. Houses go dark early. The street has no streetlights. My lights are on far later than at any other house. I own the world after midnight.

When I was a kid, the street lights were an alarm. As soon as they came on, you could hear some mothers yelling out the doors at their kids to come home. It was a nighttime ritual for every kid on the street.When I went into the house, my mother was always preparing supper. I’d plunk down in front of the TV, close enough to go blind and stay there until supper was ready. We’d eat supper and then watch more TV until bedtime. I’d read in bed until I got caught and was forced to turn off the light.

My bicycle came out of hibernation sometime in April. It was chilly riding it downhill. The wind whipped at my face. I’d sometimes wear a sweater under my spring jacket. I’d ride with no destination in mind. Some routes were close. Other routes were far away. I seldom saw any other bicyclists.

In those days there was still a town barn with a few horses. It was on a street behind the town hall. I’d stop and watch the horses for a while. They didn’t do much. Mostly they just chewed hay. There was a dairy farm. It was at the edge of town. It was one of my favorite stops. There was a zoo. It is still there. At the golf courses I’d stop and check for errant balls. Sometimes they were across the street on a lawn. Other times they were in gutters along the road. I thought the balls were a bounty. I never gave thought to the golfers whose golf balls went so far astray.

On Saturdays I’d ride around most of the day checking out all my favorite spots, maybe even seeing the train. To the young me, my town was a treasure. I loved exploring it. I always thought it was almost bigger than life.

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