Monday afternoon. 3:15 PM. A right turn. Time to explore. Bumping across the brick roads who’d held steady for 50+ years of cars, bicycles, and feet, she could feel the stories of this neighborhood. Majestic oaks towering over vintage and antique homes, shading occupants from the outside world. How old were these trees? This neighborhood? What a fun detour! Turn right. Turn left. Wind around. Another left. Keep going.
Stories continued to creep from the homes as she navigated the turns, not knowing where exactly she’d emerge…. The whispers of marriages, babies, deaths, fights, make-up sex, losing first teeth, and losing a loved one…. The beautiful old homes had seen it all, keeping the secrets and the celebrations of its occupants… tucked quietly in the middle of a bustling city, crime and noise, pollution and politics – seemingly skirting these streets, these homes, these families…. as life goes on.
Left turn. There’s the intersection out to the busy road, kept at bay by a wall whose ivy reflects the years of this community.
A lovely Monday detour, indeed.