Just a few days after Christmas and there is
no snow on the ground. It’s so hard to
get out the door on time, when I noticed that we are only a few minutes late I
feel like we are doing pretty well. I
hope we can make up some time when we get on the interstate. It always seems
like it takes forever to get out of Old Town, no matter which way you go you
are meet with congestion. I slowly make our way up Center Street and past Hannaford’s.
It’s cold out so we all want something hot to drink, but I tell you I’m not
going to stop at Dunkin Donuts. I don’t understand
how a company that’s only job is to make coffee can’t make a consistent cup, my
coffee at home is better and doesn’t cost $3.00.
I
start slowing down when I come up upon VIP, then past Governors and hang a
right into Tim Horton’s.
“Good Morning, welcome to Tim Horton’s. How
can I help you?”
“Good Morning, can I have one large coffee
black, one small hot chocolate and a medium hazelnut with extra cream and one
sugar.”
After we pay for our drinks and pull back on
to Stillwater Ave. We all take a sip of our drinks what we order is what we
got. I can’t believe that McDonald's is going to have two drive thrus, I wonder
how that’s going to work.
I
hang a right, right after Burger King. I pull onto I-95 I put it in 6th
gear and set the cruise control to 78 miles an hour. This was my first time on the interstate after
they changed the speed limit to 75, I always felt bad ass going 75 now it just
feels normal I guess. I have been going
back and forth this stretch of highway my whole life and there has never been
much to see.
Its
tree’s and field’s that spur no real emotion for mile and miles, till you come up
to this one patch of white birches. I know Birches are just trees but they are
one of my favorites. They look perfectly spaced out like someone planted them
that way. All the trees are leaning towards the interstate and look like they
are patently waiting for it to tell them a secret. This small patch of trees in
my mind lightens up this dull landscape and tells me we are almost there.
We
come up on mile marker 217 and just around the bend you see the Howland exit.
This is where I went to school but I don’t feel pride or shame I just feel
home. She a broken town lost all of her luster and spirit. It’s a sad day, driving through a sad town; it’s
a recipe of heartbreak. We go by run down stores and equally run down
homes, it’s like everyone lost hope of better days. I slow down when it’s time
to cross the old green bridge I have always felt like it’s too narrow, this bridge
was the worst part of drives education if I had to say so.
It’s
been years since I’ve been down Main Street in Howland; just as I turned the
corner my heart sinks. I almost had to pull over and just take it all in. This
street is all but dead; the little grocery store that was full of small town character
and wonderful fresh produce was boarded up, and it had been that way for years.
Keeping strait on this road we came to
street we drove all this way for, Cemetery Lane.
Of
the whole family we where second to arrive, we got out of the car and gave
hugs. This shook off the somber feeling this town gave me. After 19 years my Grandfather finally has a
grave stone and it is perfect.
A piece like this makes my life easy--I know from the start that I'm in good hands and that you will drive the vehicle of the essay safely to your destination, plus I get a coffee, your treat.
ReplyDeleteIt's a wise writer who understands the value of detailing even the differences between TH and DD and who knows that idle speculation about McDs and noting the birches (we all know that band of birches on 95!)--who understands that it's the small things carefully examined that set up the bigger things: in this case the bigger thing is the long-delayed gravestone and the stone's echo in the dead but unmarked town of Howland.
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