The day is sweltering hot, which is atypical despite the fact the town I'm in is called Hot Springs. It's 2 p.m., my car themometer reads 99 degrees and the street is empty except for a few motorcyclists chugging through town. Almost all of the stores are closed.
I have a little bit of time to kill before meeting a friend, so I drive down the main street, looking around. Ahead of me, I spot a lot of white hair and T-shirts. I keep driving, getting closer. What's going on? A parade? An accident? One by one, about six faces turn toward me, our eyes catching. I drive by, looking at the group of about six men sitting on a stone wall. They're in the shade of some large trees and overgrown hedges. What's going on? I'm what's going on. Me, in my car, driving down the street. They smile. I smile. We all wave.
Oh, to live in a town where the excitement at 2 p.m. is watching traffic.
Oak Island, NC
About Me
- Angie
- I spent my 17th birthday in San Francisco with a group of other North Carolina teenagers. We spent the summer camping across the United States, and it was what you'd expect: crowded, full of junk food and longing. Yeah, wonderful. And traveling has only gotten better. This is my Web site on exploration, from small to large places and ways.
1 comment:
maybe it's because i just read "the ballad of the sad cafe" but this makes me think of that town. something ghost-like but an eastern seaboard ghost-like which is cooler in some ways than out west cause you don't expect it around here. and now i will go comment on those apples. xoxoxo this is from frances.
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