After lunch, around one o'clock, we finally headed out the door. Dad stared at David. Mom asked him what he wanted to do and he nodded toward David and announced, "I want to go with him." That broke my heart. Because I also know as soon we were hardly out of town, he would ask where Ellen was, or when we were going home.
Our hearts do linger in Emporium. It is Grandma's and Grandpa's, home for David and a peaceful place for me, that I have visited for thirty two years. Love abounds throughout the home.
The mountain roads curved ahead of us after we leave town. We get to a point where there are no telephone poles for eight to ten miles on Norwich Hill. Luscious green, clear blue skies and puffy white clouds formed as they say a picture perfect day. David enjoyed this as he grew up in this area, and went this way to his college in Edinboro. I stare out the window at the undergrowth, loving the sunlight jumping on the ferns.
The Kinzua Viaduct(officially), brought back many memories. David retold how his dad, on a trip there when David was eight, crossed the bridge on the railing. David thought for sure he was going to be a half orphan. I gazed over the side, thinking how Diane and Herman climbed this trestle before it was a state park. David and I, before Katie was born, rode the train to the bridge, as well as across. The train didn't linger, but for a half hour. David almost missed the train. The whole excursion lasted eight hours.
The hawks soaring around above and below us fascinated me. No humidity with mountain breezes created a comfortable day. Then we continued through the towns on US Route 6, the oil wells, the refineries, the Allegheny.
We arrived at our motel around 430 pm. Looked around our room, the lobby, then decided to get food at Sara's and spend the evening at the beach. Sara's, as always, totally packed with people in beach attire, hard to find a parking space. When we get to the beach, I feel all the tension of the day leave my shoulders. Unfortunately, the lifeguards leave at 730 and we arrived about ten after seven. No sense getting wet, then slop around in sandy suits while we shop.
Swimming at the motel pool reminds me how this is one of the best exercises. I slept so well that night, with no back pain. The next morning, though the day dawns hazy, hot and humid. I play smile and hide with an adorable six year old girl in the breakfast room. She made her mom sit in another chair, so she could sneak a peek at me, by turning her head quickly.
I think of a line from a book I'm reading, Tipperary, set in the late 1800's, by Frank Delaney. The main character decided when he was nine or ten on a trip with his father, that he liked hotel living. I imagine how different that experience is from mine. We don't think of clean, crisp linen sheets to slide between. Most of look for bed bugs, now. I didn't see any. More likely 150 years ago to find critters in the bed, I would think.
I waited this morning in the lobby for the family to wake. Then we would decide what to do, as the weather was labile.
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