Slice of Life Tuesday 2018

We walked.

He narrated.

I listened.

So familiar these old streets with baroque houses

This park that used to be a tangle of bushes interrupted by grassy space where the boys would play football

That was of course before tourism was the ticket out of rural oblivion

Before they discovered and cultivated the healing hot waters buried underneath their blessed small town

I have heard this history

At least 12 times before.

I miss

The history of my home town we never explored, the walks we never took through my stomping grounds.

Habit makes life familiar.

Uneven histories can become all that we know.


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