Orange Crust

It had no name of which I am aware, and it certainly was not of an orange color; but a huge painting across its structure read, “The Orange Crust”. I do not know if it ever had a color other than its current rustic one. I think that a bottling company was advertising its orange flavored soft drink. I never heard anyone speak of it or the nature of its original purpose, but it was clear to me that it had served its usefulness and quite frankly, it was being hung out to dry. It sat on a concrete foundation and stood towering alone, high in the southern sky If I asked my childhood friends, I suppose they too would recall that there were many things we did together, in addition to playing ball and rolling rubber tires. I’m certain the thought of this our friendly and towering giant would bring smiles to their faces, simply because this was one of our favorite playing places. I suppose that giant of a structure must have felt alone, and was well pleased when we came along. Made of steel, so solid and strong, and to us kids it was very tall. So often it was there that we found ourselves intrigued by the echoic sounds that we created by yelling, screaming, or hollowing. We all grew up and moved away, and many years passed before the towering giant would cross my mind again. It seemed back then that time stood still and waited for us to move on, and later be swept away by the winds of time. When I thought upon that giant one day and all the good times we had playing inside of it, I called a cousin who still lived near by. Sadly though, she informed me that it was torn down for fear that it would fall off its weakening foundation. This high tower in the center of town was to us a hiding place, and we took advantage of its secretive enclosure, being rediscovered when we chose to be. Not once did we ever think that one day it too would fall on its fading face. But sooner or later we all come to understand, that in the end, we wear and tear; We falter, fail, and stall; We breath in and breath out, and in time, structures too, like us, must also fall. My childhood friends, as do I, well remember that high and rusty structure, known to all as the Orange Crust. It drew us like a magnet, and by its symbol of strength, we were captured. Cj050207 PS(revisited and additions made on thur, 08072014cj) and on tues, 04142015cj)