Riding Through Taylor

Some people have difficult commutes to work. I usually do not. I say usually because this time of year you never know when you might run up on a tractor at 7am. This is the view from my namesake town. The Blackberry doesn't do justice to the flowers this time of year. 

As I ride through Taylor so many memories come to mind. I can tell you where a car hit a tree when I was in first grade. The driver wrapped his Ford around a huge pine in front of what is now the police station. He was going way too fast down Hosea road. It was a Friday night and the first time I ever knew you could die in a car.

You would never know it, but this video shows where the old school once stood. My grandmother went there. When I was young we would go in the back door on Saturdays and get ice cream sandwiches from the freezer in what passed as the cafeteria. 

The softball field is just beyond the old school plot. I spent many hours with my cousin Frankie playing ball there, just he and I, taking turns pitching and hitting. That is the same field where my oldest son played his first T-ball game when he was four. 

And I guess that's my point, I don't just drive through Taylor. I drive through history, my memories, and all the things that make a place home. I've lived in three states and four cities in my adult life. I've done the major U.S. city (New Orleans) the vacation destination (Panama City) and the small southern city (Enterprise), but I wouldn't trade the morning commute through Taylor for any of them.