All These Years

Dream last night.  I walked home, down Monroe Street in Alexandria, Indiana.  A man named Mr. Jones was with me.  His son, Bud, worked in an office tower in downtown NYC.  We walked three blocks to the stretch of Monroe Street on which I lived.  I turned, pointed to the skyline behind us, and said, “Look.  What do you see there?”  “Bud’s tower.”  “Yes. And right next to it?”  “St. Patrick’s.”  “How about that over there?” I asked, pointing to building, orange metal and looking somewhat like the Sydney Opera House.  “Hope.”   “Yes,”  I said, “Imagine. All these years I’ve been living in Alexandria and never realized it was so close to NYC.  I don’t have to go away from home to be there.”

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