OLD SCHOOL HOUSE

Woke up at night to the sound of thunder.  During droughts, thunder is a beautiful sound.  Thought I'd lay in bed and savor it, but instead it must've lulled me back to sleep.  

To continue with our afternoon trolley, we drove past the old schoolhouse where my mom went to school as a little girl.  Sadly, the structure is barely standing, having been left to go to ruin.  If only we as a society could have saved these small buildings that, to me, are monuments in themselves.  

I give my mind free rein to imagine her walking through this door as a little girl.  My mind can't help but think how safe the little ones were in this little building.  Today, children go to school in large well-equipped structures, yet they must suffer the fear of not knowing if today will be the day a crazy person enters their school and kills them and their friends.  What on earth has happened to our society in such a short span of time?  

That's why I pay reverence to this structure for the part it played in my mother's childhood.  Next year at this time, chances are good that the little old school house will be only a pile of boards, if that.

Our trolleys may be close to home, but to us, they tie knots in the strings of time that connect us to our past.