Old places

Last time I was in the U.K. I spent some time in the New Forest. Wild ponies.

I didn’t return to my childhood school, but the places where we lived in Northbourne gave rise to memory. Walking to the local store, down by the river with my uncles, the pub frequented by dad and uncle.

There is a quietness of the chill air.

In summer, my nan sat in the yard, bathing in the sun, a little bold perhaps.

But the neighbors are gone now, too.

Sometimes, returning to old places, the ones from our childhood the most, destroys the dream.

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