maybe it was the love

Hampton Inn, Ocean Springs, Mississippi, up early for coffee. Typical, I forgot to bring a sport coat to wear to Betty’s funeral, so Linda is on iPad finding a store where I can buy one. I also forgot a toothbrush but was gifted one at the desk last night, not typical, haven’t done that in forty years or more, toothbrush is nearly always the first-packed item.

Malinda tracks us for safety, wants a text when we arrive at Denham, two hours west on I10 changing numbers to I12. Tuesday, my driving turn from Pensacola to Ocean Spgs, I10 truck traffic was horrendous all the way. Having made a habit of driving Interstates in through and around Atlanta, I don’t mind it, who cares, mind the mirrors for one thing.

Travel with lunch yesterday, stop for sandwich and water, second sandwich with coffee for supper after arrival here. Linda had deli ham, I’ve a taste for enough prosciutto slices doubled over to almost an inch thick, tasty but requires sharp incisors. This morning: graze motel breakfast bar. 

At some point in Time life either returns to whatever normal was back in +Time+ or ends, doesn’t it. Arriving with a handful of them and a cup of water, Linda trying to keep me alive with these gardenia heart pills until a better looking octo-or-nonogenarian starts flirting with her. Good luck, Babe.

Top: water at Destin bridge 12:47 afternoon yesterday. 

Arriving in Pensacola, usual drive by 1317 E. Strong Street to see what’s happening. As a small boy I knew that house, that my grandparents bought about 1914 or 1915 and my mother remembers moving into, family and friends rushing back and forth carrying furniture and stuff from their rental house across the street, as a home filled with love. There were familial tensions that a boy never knew of until long years later when many were dead. But in my Time, Mamoo & Daddy Walt, cousins, aunts and uncles galore coming and going. Round kitchen table loaded with good things to eat, evenings grandparents’ friends arriving for card games. 

Years later, grandparents going out evenings to play poker, canasta, bridge with friends, leaving early evening until about midnight in one Chrysler, carelessly leaving behind the keys to the other Chrysler to the joy of two teenage boys, first-cousin Bill and me. Hopefully MM&DW went in the Windsor 6 because it was last one out, leaving the Imperial V8 behind to cruise residential streets of EastHill at speed. If not, little matter, as the Windsor also would move if pressed.

The house looked terrible for years but has been refurbished beautifully and ready to be someones’ home for another century. Same steep steps from driveway to kitchen door, now with handrail, no sissy handrail in The Old Time. Same porch out front. A two bedroom bungalow added onto variously with second bathroom downstairs, stairs leading to two bedrooms and bathroom upstairs. High ceilings. A small boy thought the house was enormous. Maybe it was the love. 

DThos+