An envisioning . . .1970 and the house in Fargo with dusk closing in.

Oh to be here.

A North Dakota summer and it staying light forever. Dark eventually but plenty of time after supper for all the grandbabies to play outside until the streetlights go on. A treat for them it is, so bundled up most of the time.

So far north and what they are used to. Funny. Strange looks with every story about the house on Dauphin Island.

Alabama and far more golden sunshine it was. Outside all day year round and no winter coat. Indeed, barely knowing what wool was, what with living in a place so warm even sheets were too hot to sleep under by Easter.

But a tall, dark and handsome man wildcatting in the bayou and life changing. Following work instead of the sun and ending up by Canada. Impossible. Home still by a warm and shining sea but a family used to snow and ice and not about to move. Something about needing snow boots to feel normal.

But pictures in the bottom of the jewelry box to look through when it gets to be too much and memories coming back. The baby brother that died in Okinawa in that last charge up some hill or other and Mother. Morning at the beach and a picnic on the running board with sand in the deviled eggs and a mason jar of sweet tea.

Something to cling to . . .maybe next summer . . .maybe the one after . . .but under the rings and a safe place to live forever  . . .

Lunch on the running boards. Texas, 1929.
Lunch on the running boards. Texas, 1929. via Facebook.

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