Went for another walk through my little town yesterday. Spotted another house for sale. This was by owner. That makes two within two blocks of each other. I wonder what’s going on, why people want to sell, move on, find a new place. I know whenever we moved, we always talked to our neighbors, told them why we were heading out. But I’m not close enough to these folks to walk up and ask. So, I’ll just have to wonder.

I know that when we moved to town this was our forever home. The landing spot. The last place we’d be. That worked out for one of us, but truth be told she missed Alvin and I felt a little bad for bringing her to my ancestral home which was a long way from the Gulf Coast she knew and loved. Unfortunately for her, I could no longer stomach the rising water and she was practical so along she came. Then Katrina hit, our old house was drowned in four feet of water, and she understood.

Anyway, here I am walking around, checking out the grounds. Still puzzled why our county leaders decided to put picnic tables on the courthouse lawn beneath an old pecan tree that also has two signs warning of falling limbs. Seems an odd thing to do. Because if you’re watching for falling limbs, I don’t think you want to do it beneath the tree. But that’s just me, and I leave the golf course when I hear thunder. And no one asked me anyhow.

John W. Wilson is the author of The Long Goodbye: A Caregiver's Tale