It's 6 in the evening and I'm looking out at golden fall sunlight as it drapes over my magnolia tree in the back yard. There's just something about this time of day that reminds me of the mountains where I grew up.
We'd come home after school, my friend Doris and I, walking the mile between my house and school. She lived a little further up the holler than I did, so she had a way to go after she left me. The color today reminds me of the golden colors of those fall days in the mountains.
It was a time of collecting leaves, labeling them and putting them on a poster for the whole world to see the kinds of trees that lived around us. I wish I still had one of those posters, I must have made one every year I was in elementary school. And we had a kazillion trees.
Then I went to high school, and there the only distance I walked was from the bottom of the hill to the top and back down again. Our school sat on a little knoll on the side of the mountain overlooking the town below.
I went back last year for my 50th class reunion. Ha! Did I really just write that? Yes I did. 50.
The building, old even when I was there, is no longer on that hill. It succumbed to time and the elements and progress a few years ago. In its place is not much of anything, just a grass covered knoll. But the old gymnasium is still there, it was newer than the main building, and I loved walking down the steps in front of it, lingering at the tree, looking out over the town. Same steps, same tree, same old town last year, too. Same walk down memory lane.
The sun was low and golden that day too.
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|Wonderful memories by vic||Sep 24, 2011 5:29 AM||8|
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