My reflection:
“I remember when I was young and driving 30 miles in 60 minutes of rush hour traffic twice a day so I could work for eight hours two cities away from my children in an office that afforded a view of concrete ribbons screaming in every direction with people who knew my name but that’s all and climate control they kept everything uniform in every season.
Are used to think about my grandparents tucked away in a piney woods in their small, wooden house with a screened in porch for summer sleeping and their tiny kitchen with a green formica table top and a clear plastic cover over the floral sofa so you could see the bouquets underneath; with a vegetable garden and a chicken coop and a trout pond and an old pick up truck the oil company gave my grandfather to drive to check their wells, twice a day, his job.
I remember them waking up together and working alongside, him hoeing the garden while she did the laundry and sitting down for lunch together, every day, following their heads to say thanks for the sweet corn and the leftover fried chicken and the coupons for paper towels in the newspaper that day and how those vinyl chairs clung to your flesh and never wanted to let your legs go anywhere else.” Sally Clark