My Visit

The little town is eternal or seems so as I come back to trace my childhood down these sidewalks. Each house holds faded memories yet, creeps back into my mind until once again I live the mystic solitude of my youth. Those echoes start to stir within me. I hear it in the mocking-bird’s song, the musical notes that my youthful ears must have heard, and still rings in the trees. From the songs of birds, I start my visit to the past, both joy and pain Into my youth. On this day a curious man, trying to get close to the THROUGH CAUTION TO WIND, of a boy. The boy and his bare feet with a sling- shot hanging from a back pocket, the love of nature in his heart and pent up energy busting loose. I was that boy, roaming the streets and fields beyond. It is that boy that whispers to me now, creeping up to my ear to let me live it again. He sings to me in my solitude, a song with a thousand notes, all in adventure, it is he that sings to me now. “Do you remember when we were we together?” “Do you remember our good times?” “We were together then,” he whispered to me. Yes, I remember, for I treasure every note. More than once I trod down these streets and over the railroad tracks, more than once I felt that hot summer breeze on my face, more than once I saw that delta moon go down through the trees and heard the cricket’s call. He runs ahead of me pointing to the old church that I attended as a boy, so many years ago. He awakens my own song, a sweet song of old friends, some passed. This old church that traced my steps through Vietnam, bringing me strength and comfort through the little bulletins that brought me closer to home, if only for a little while. The boy wipes a tear from my cheek, for his questions are ill timed, but I have heard, him. Now, at this moment, I am back for a thousand echoes are within me, never to die. I was that boy and he whispers to me the words to our song. He calls to me from the shadow of a big oak and from the grassy fields with sights and sounds from the past. He blends himself Into the shadows as I recall the shapes of old buildings and memories flood my mind, things I nearly forgot. He frolics with me for old times until I must leave. Now, as I say “Good-by” I hear him whisper the words to our song, he whispers his farewell.