I found it as a kid–a pine grove in the woods with a gap just big enough to squeeze through; the place where red and orange feathers floated down every Spring like fuzzy rain. There, dozens congregated and gossiped.
It was my secret once.
Now it’s a parking lot.
EO’s not really a tree-hugging hippy, but is nonetheless annoyed when small towns get over-developed. After all, who really needs THREE grocery stores in one location?
ach, don’t get us started!
Aww, so depressing, overdevelopment.
In your memory, it still is your secret.
I feel ya. Also it’s tempting to think that the gatherings were kind of like Dead Poets Society gatherings?
Love it
This one got me. Beautifully written.