memory is a strange beast

Yesterday, after lunch, we piled into the car and took a Memorial Day drive up the coast. We drove through the tourist hot-spot that is Ogunquit, through Wells and then up to see the Bush’s summer home in Kennebunkport. At one point during the drive, as we were slowly making our way through a small cluster of homes near the oceanfront, Mom pointed out a large rock sitting in the rising tide.

“I watched the sun rise from that rock.”

Then she noted a small, grey cottage. “We rented that little place once…

“And,” she added, “That was the first time I ever used Nair.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*

You may use these HTML tags and attributes: <a href="" title=""> <abbr title=""> <acronym title=""> <b> <blockquote cite=""> <cite> <code> <del datetime=""> <em> <i> <q cite=""> <strike> <strong>