There is a stoplight now
in my hometown
at the intersection
of Highway 69 and 210.
I slow my car down,
impatient for the light to turn.
I look over at the cemetery where my
mother-in-law is buried.
I did not know her well.
But I think of her now.
She grew up in this town.
Was that same oak tree here,
the same fence
around the graves?
There is a stoplight now
on Highway 69 and Main
over by the old doctor’s office.
We have a new medical building,
on the other side of town.
New lights,
new houses,
pop up one by one.
Young couples with big ideas
have moved to town,
their lives unfolding.
Flowers in planters
and weather resistant rockers
on their porches and signs
with rustic designs from Walmart
that say Welcome
or Home in cursive lettering.
Bright flags in the colors
of college football teams
are stuck with spikes
into pristine lawns,
announcing who lives here
by who they root for.
Everyone is inside,
Tvs humming.
Houses in neat developments.
Wide driveways with enormous
pickup trucks. Red white and blue
banners with names of politicians
in bold lettering. Another convenience
store. Another church.
Morning after morning,
I walk with my dog.
We look at the houses,
the trucks,the signs.
We pause at the stoplight
on Highway 69 and 1st
by the hardware store
until the light says Go.
- The Stoplight - March 19, 2024