Memories

I stood at a bus stop this morning in California, dressed for a day at the office.  It was about 8am and there was a soft breeze moving the cool air around.  I stood with my face to the sun and closed my eyes.  I heard birds, the sound of a tractor in the distance and a few cars driving by.  It one second I was transported from that curb in California to the edge of the porch at Captain John's house on a cool December morning, with a breeze blowing the cool air around, the sun shining down, birds singing their songs, tractors moving in the distance and cars driving down the highway.  I could see the paintbrush in my hand and hear the murmurs of my friends voices as they painted on the other side of the house.

I opened my eyes and looked down, half expecting to see my work boots on my feet.

I'm missing Pearlington today.