madameblogalot

Last week my son’s district track meet was in the town where I was born and lived for the first nine years of my life. I went down to watch since my grandparents said they’d like to come out and watch him run. I pointed out to my daughter where we would go pick up pecans and where the Little League fields were. I took my her by the houses where my grandpa and his second wife had lived, next door to each other. Then we went down to the high school. As I was looking for a place to park, I was hit with a memory. I told my daughter that I was sure I had been to an Easter egg hunt in the field between the high school and the track, but it looked a little different, but yes, I was sure I had. (My mom later confirmed that yes I had done that, but it was before there was a track there.) After watching the two mile race, my son would not run again until late afternoon. So we sat in the stands and visited a little longer, then went to the Dairy Bar to get a hamburger. I wasn’t sure it would still be good. When I drove into the parking lot, it was empty and looked a little “old”. But then I started noticing folks going through the drive through and the older people going in for burgers. I knew it must still be good. And the longer we sat there, the more crowded it got. And yes, it was still a good burger! Afterward, I made a quick stop by my grandmother’s grave then headed home. It was a pleasant morning and glad we got to make the trip.