Blinky Rd. and Old 15

It is true, Mickey's Place did exist. I see its broken skeleton fighting the thickness of tree trunks and trying to override the impending growth of briers that crawl to the front steps. The old 'Mickey's' sign is punched out by the weather like a blow of a wind gust that throws those nasty haymakers and bows. I can only imagine a day when the Old 15 was vibrant, electric, full of giving to those travelers headed North and South. The team buses that must have pulled into Mickey's for a soda pop or a bowl of Brunswick Stew.

I found myself posted up on the front promenade of Mickey's. Was a late afternoon in the spring. The wind was flowing the fragrance of the pines. For a fleeting half second, the warmth of the sun melted against my face and an apparition of a cold Budweiser appeared in my right hand. The ocean waves crashed on the surf and sand. I could hear Harold Melvin and the Blue Notes from all the way up on Philly. I was in my happy place on the front bank at Mickey's. Nowhere near the beach, or vacation, I was given a golden chance at the thought while I rested my bones on that bank of soil. This is my story to tell, I struggle to hear the old stories baked into the red soil along Old Fifteen. I try to carry the memories for the others through my own dramatized daydreams. The past is not so distant as evidenced by this dinosaur of a structure left to rot into the abyss of time.

Aside from all this inner thinking talk, I found the basic warmth of time and place. Blessed to find myself on Blinky Rd. at this time. There was no other place for me at that moment. I was sipping from the cup of life. The roses were smelled and then some.

Buckingham Co., VA

Photo Credit: G.C.M.