. . . went home Saturday

to visit my mother. Is where you grew up always going to be "home"? It was a lovely calm day; my sister and one of my brothers was there, along with Christopher, my nephew. We took a walk to see the neighborhood gardens, ventured "downtown" to see what was going on (nothing) and ate cheesecake and had coffee (with a bit of wine earlier.)






When I was growing up, downtown on Saturday was a busy time. . . my dad's store stayed open late and the grocery stores, variety stores, drugstores, clothing and shoe stores, all did brisk business. Kids congregated at one of the two drugstores for cherry limeades or vanilla cokes, farmers came to town to do whatever farmers did in town. The many "pool halls" were always busy. But now, you could shoot a rocket from one end of Market Street to the other and not hit anything.

A few months ago, a fire destroyed two buildings downtown, and they have been torn down, leaving a blank space in the middle of a block of attached buildings. I only got a few shots of the remaining walls before my camera's batteries went out. The top photo is of another building, across the street from the fire-damaged area, and it seems that someone is trying to restore the exterior. Another building nearby was constructed in 1886, so this one is probably about as old.

Matt took me to brunch on Sunday, and it was lovely. Betsy called me last night to tell me they had just come from the beach to watch the sun set into the water, but had failed to see the green flash that apparently happens sometimes. I talked with Stef, too, but Joey was busy and didn't want to visit. Betsy had called me before they left for Florida and had wondered if I would cry because they were leaving. I asked her if she wanted me to cry, and she giggled and said yes. I asked her how long she wanted me to cry, and she said "Until we come home." I asked how long that would be and she said seven days. I promised that I would do my best to cry the whole time they were gone, through all the TV shows that she likes, through grocery shopping, even while I slept. She was giggling pretty much nonstop by the time we ended that conversation.