Following Footprints: -
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It was a lonely night and I had been sitting on a bench in Jack Asbury Square for more than an hour, waiting for the moon to rise over the small hill that sheltered part of my hometown. The streetlights added to the quiet of a dark night as the full moon finally arrived. It had been nearly 50 years since I left Bluefield and in the countless visits over the years, never once did I feel that part of me wasn't still there. That night, I was in the park just to take a picture of the full moon. Instead, it took mine. For over an hour, keeping company with the full moon, I sat quietly on the park b...
It was a lonely night and I had been sitting on a bench in Jack Asbury Square for more than an hour, waiting for the moon to rise over the small hill that sheltered part of my hometown. The streetlights added to the quiet of a dark night as the full moon finally arrived. It had been nearly 50 years since I left Bluefield and in the countless visits over the years, never once did I feel that part of me wasn't still there. That night, I was in the park just to take a picture of the full moon. Instead, it took mine. For over an hour, keeping company with the full moon, I sat quietly on the park bench. In my mind I saw my youth played back to me. I saw the old Lee Theater and Saturdays with friends at the double feature, the buildings no longer there. The railroad tracks, the sad moments, many questions, and the little things that found a place in my heart to be protected and remembered. In my wanderlust I left my footprints on so much of our small town. This full moon, like an old friend that once walked with me is now shining on me, urging my imagination to be in free fall; telling me to open that invisible window, to see again what shouldn't be lost, challenging me not to forget. Footprints are surprisingly easy to find. Following them is when the fun begins.
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