Friday Dec. 30, 2011. First week, Day 4, before I begin taking things for granted. Half moon above the meadows. A group of three young women board the quiet car in Brick Church, next stop Summit (why?) Or, they moved cars. Barely spoke a word. Remarkable. (I'd've thought the same of three young men.)
This morning, the second that I waited half an hour for the 8:48, having missed the 8:17 by a fraction, I took a walk and found more Summit remnants. The elongated J on the south side of The Jeanette Shop on Maple. Original DL&W fencing behind the coin shop, just east of Railroad Avenue across from the Opera House. (Remember dusty Hill City Stamp & Coin on the second floor on Maple?) Another piece of original railing at Union Place east of Maple. Original sewer grates on the north side of Railroad Avenue, lost amid trees and shrubs, from when it was an open street with tall red-brick warehouses, pre-dating the senior citizens' housing, but no church any longer on Chestnut. No Kozy Korner in my morning meander, killing time. No falling down, ramshackle eyesores on Broad Street, across from the fire house, however poverty quaint and poverty romantic -- from the outside.
Instead, today, I looked in a window and found empty stools and a counter at the (not yet open) Summit Food Market on Springfield. A little bookstore where the Strand once stood, a sushi and Japanese steakhouse ditto.
Moving back to my hometown is so very odd, particularly at my advanced age, with a young family. I am moving backward and forward in time, simultaneously, separate from those who never left, separate from those a continent away.
