Sometimes Memory Lane Is Exactly Where You Need To Be

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Little me…

Spent a week each summer…with those grandparents of hers…in a cabin…near the river…there would often be talk…of a town named Lisbon…we’d wake in the morning…that grandpa of ours off on an errand for groceries…to Lisbon…or off to get feed…in Lisbon…that town…to little me…seemed like a fairy tale town…never went there…never saw it…the mystery…made it seem…magical…

And so it was…50 years later…that husband of mine in tow…this old gal…entered the folds…of Lisbon…simple little town…tried to imagine the places…that loved one of mine frequented…got lost on the way home…accidentally took some back road…not sure where we’d end up…and then…there it was…the Sutliff Bridge…the familiar old school house…the road that leads…to that cabin on the river…

Lost me…realizing…she’s not lost…after all…she knew these roads…she knew this town…the night crawler house…the building where her grandma once lived…the American Legion…where little us drank Orange Crush..while that father of ours…prepared for the next shift…

And so it was…maybe Lisbon…was magical after all…sent one old gal…down a path…so that her little girl heart…could visit…memory lane…
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And this husband of mine…agrees…