Hardy, Arkansas. A year ago.
Hardy, Arkansas. Today.I spent my teenage years there. It is not easy to see it in this shape, and to know that it is time for my father to move away. It is not easy to cut that last link to the town where my mother spent the last years of her life, and where I made my first real friends. It is really possible to mourn a town as you would mourn a person. Just less explicable.
2 comments:
Two disasters in a year...that is rough on anyone. It is difficult to lose a childhood home - even if you weren't there, you could have always gone back. Once your father moves away, that door closes, so it is a loss.
On another note, I love that poem by Frost, even if it is rather dreary.
We had quite difficult times in february and last years. But... it was truly a blessing... the ways of God are not ours !
Father Laurent Demets, priest at Cherokee Village ( 5 miles from Hardy )
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