It’s close to 11 am, and the temperature has risen to 35°, but the wind makes it feel much colder. Gracie and I were awakened today by the sounds of blowers from my neighbor’s yard. He and his men are doing spring clean up. They came here next, and it gave me hope when I saw the garden beds clear of dead leaves and branches. My herb garden already has some growth. I showed Sebastian, my neighbor and landscaper, where I wanted a raised bed for a few vegetables. He thought the spot perfect. The men removed all the dead pine branches from the backyard and blew the deck clear of leaves. It may still be cold, but when clean-up begins, I think of a warm day, a sunny deck and flowers. I’m holding on to that thought with a grasp so tight my knuckles are white.
When my sister came and stayed for a week after I had had my surgery, she experienced much the same as I had in my old town where she lives now. Sheila lived on the cape for a long time but has been gone even longer. We drove familiar streets which now have unfamiliar views. Her grammar school sits empty, no longer used. The printing shop where she worked for so long was torn down to make way for a park which is right by the water. The park is an odd one with small hills and only a few benches. She was a bit amazed by all the changes. I knew exactly how she felt.
The square in the town where I grew up has changed. A whole block has been torn down. It used to hold small shops and stores like the shoe repair and a drug store. At first I was horrified because my childhood is wound around the memories of those stores. I have since adjusted to an adult view and have saved my childhood square in special memory drawers. Many of the old buildings still remain, but they have became something else. If I had grandchildren, I would walk them through the square and bore them with stories of what was.
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