Erestor (![]() ![]() @ 2009-05-19 00:06:00 |
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Entry tags: | @chetcombe, carol, erestor |
*really had forgotten how small Chetcombe proper was—until he and Carol passed through the only intersection in town with an actual traffic light*
*spent the morning at the cemetery where his parents were buried, mostly reminiscing with his aunt about the good old days (when he was young (don't talk to me about old, boy!) and had four sets of eyes to dodge (I never got away with anything, did I?) and life was so much... simpler)*
*now finds himself walking a slow, meandering path up the gravel driveway to his childhood home* *quietly takes in the house, the yard, the trees, the fence* *and so much of it is new paint, new curtains, new flowers—but he can still see the way it used to be, every time he closes his eyes and smells the pines and the lilacs on the breeze*
*tucks his hands into his pockets and squints up at the clear blue sky, just feeling the gravel crunching under his feet* *softly* Not much has changed, has it? *liptwitch* Except I don't hear the shutters anymore.