Sentimental Journey

When I was 21 the bus didn't stop in West Virginia, such a small state and the Maryland panhandle only minutes away. I would settle in for another few hours completely saturated with resting. The slight early morning gray was like dust. Going home; but not home, a visit with my parents. They would greet me and I would be grateful. Now, from the high standpoint of age, as if I look back from a high peak with thin clouds drifting under me, I realize that today is the time for play. I pull out my toys like I did when I sat sprawled on my parents' carpet.