But much has been happening. I traveled up to New England, saw practically all my relations, got married (incidentally).
But I’m back south now, with a head full of lovely memories.
Like the Fourth of July on a small island. It hasn’t changed much in almost 2 decades.
My foster daughter walked in the Cuttyhunk Fourth of July parade when she was ten years old and spending the summer with me. Decorated from head to toe in red, white and blue, holding the leash of my dog Jesse, who was similarly decorated by the two of us.
This was back when airline attendants would actually accompany a child from gate to gate, and make sure they were delivered safely from one place to another. That has certainly changed. Imagine sending a ten year old girl from Kentucky to Rhode Island by herself nowdays.
Sixteen years later my daughter drove up with her four year old daughter,
so that she could have the same experiences her mother did.
There are few constants in this world. But for one morning in July on Cuttyhunk Island the only thing that had changed was the passing of Jesse the dog, long gone now.
There’s a new generation in the parade now. That’s about all.