The Long Way Home
I always take the long way home. I enjoy being stuck behind a school bus. It makes me smile to see the children jump off the bus into a parent’s arms. They walk away together grinning and talking.
I always take the long way home. Did you know that St. Mary’s Angelus bells answer Dean College’s? It’s like listening to a choir chant antiphonally.
I always take the long way home. Did you know that Route 109 dog-legs around Medway Community Church?
I always take the long way home. Whenever I go buy the prisons in Walpole and Norfolk, I am moved to pray. So many people have broken lives.
I say, “I always take the long way home,” but that’s a recently adopted philosophy. You see, I’ve settled into retirement mode. The rhythm of my life has changed, and I walk to the beat of a different drummer, now. When I was working, I didn’t walk. I marched! I marched to the beat of a fast pace world. I was in the race.
I always took short cuts. Getting behind a school bus would make my blood pressure soar. And watching a mother “chit chat” with the school bus driver drove me insane! “Good grief! Are they oblivious to the line of traffic waiting?”
I always avoided down town Franklin, especially Dean College. Those students always dashed across the street like a stray cat.
I also avoided Rte. 109 during rush hours. Does everybody live in Bellingham?
I never used to give the poor souls in prisons a thought. I never prayed while I drove. I never noticed the brilliant fall colors. I never slowed down to enjoy watching the ducklings cross the road.
I never listened to the music of life. Now, I always take the long way home.