The Summer place or maybe not so much anymore!

Last week I got a call from my sister in Birmingham to let me know that my mother was sick and in the hospital. She had a heart attack and at age 89 was not doing well. This of course triggered the flurry of family phone calls and the job of keeping my two uncles up to date fell to me.

Last night, I talked to the uncle who lives in Bedford Virginia, right next door to the old home place AKA The Summer Place. He mentioned that they had finally torn down the old house that I talked about in A Summer Place . That there were mixed emotions at the news would be an understatement. As I thought about the odd timing of that news with my mother's illness the introspective portion of what passes for my brain was working a second shift. The fond memories of summers there bubbled up to the surface but to indulge them totally was just too difficult. Especially so as I faced the prospect that the twig that attached me to the family tree was very close to breaking.

The good news I suppose is that I was spared a trip over there for a last look and I did not have to watch the bulldozers. No need to add that memory, is there?