Don Miller

The Intersection of Memory Lane and Avenida de Progress

Dad’s gone, Mom is in assisted living, and I am walking the old place one last time hardly recognizing where I grew up; it is so clean and clutter free, even the trees are trimmed! A brother-in-law and his son have been busy clearing everything out of the buildings since I was home last. All the broken down, used and worn out parts and machinery that had littered the bays of the barns have been hauled off. The red tractor, a plow, disc and grain drill are still here, but they’re sold and waiting for the collector to move them out. A couple of sisters-in-law talk about "skinning" the old barn for its weathered wood, but I doubt if they take it any further. Some day soon the corner will be taken under eminent domain and reconfigured; the house and pump shed condemned, torn down and replaced with asphalt paving and a hoard of road signs pointing out . . .

a changing landscape
creeping closer to home
trying to process
unfamiliar landmarks
circling this round-a-bout