Familiar faces

What an interesting day this has been.  I found my new home.  Old time worn and solid on a street lined with trees and with a porch I can chain my bike to at night.

Then I found my old friend.  Doing what she’s always done.  Mopping floors and writing plays, as though nothing has changed in the last twenty-five years.  She and Bradbury must be almost blood brothers by now.  They have both put so much blood, sweat and tears into Dandelion Wine.

The Swan!  How could I have forgotten The Swan?  Star crossed lovers searching for lime vanilla ice cream.  Always finding each other, backwards and upside down.  Once I wanted it to end “right.”  Now I think it always ends right.  The trick is to love the now.

Old friends, they pop up in the strangest places:  writing by fireflies, eating gummi bears on frozen yogurt, penning plays, mopping floors, writing books, walking dogs and simply listening to the buzz of the grown ups through the lamp lit window.

They don’t always look the same, but they are so familiar.