Childhood memories…of sorts. There’s a favorite place I like to go that sits up high (I’m guessing that’s why they call the adjoining neighborhood Highpoint). From this spot, we would perch ourselves on a fence that surrounded a horse pasture and watch the jets fly from a Navy airbase barely visible in the distance. I can still feel (and hear) those jets… and the planes just like the ones my dad used to fly and would take us to see when we were little. The airbase and the jets are gone and so are the horses and the fence we used to sit on. But if I situate myself just right, the homes that now surround this little patch of field fade away and time rewinds… if only for a moment or at least until one of the dogs pulls on his leash.
Until next time,