It is July 1976 and after Bacchanalia party at the old Mixson farmstead where I lived, I packed up everything I owned and left family, friends and the hometown I grew up in to move to Indialantic Florida, into a house I had rented unseen, and to start a new job.
From Part III
I took one last look around, my empty bedroom where my grandfather was born, the bare kitchen, I looked in the bedroom where Elizabeth was staying, there was a single mattress on the floor, a small pile of books, and a few clothes neatly stacked. I would like to say I left her a note, but I don’t remember doing so. I walked out of the house, locked the door, got into my Chevy van and drove away. As I went down the dirt road, I looked back in the mirror at the dust that rose behind me with the house fading from view. I really loved living there and would miss it, I felt deeply connected to the old place. As I drove away, I left it all behind, job, friends, family, lovers.
Bob Dylan
She turned around to look
at me
As I was walking away
I heard her say over my shoulder
"We'll meet again someday on the avenue"
Tangled up in blue
Sometimes I wonder if any reads what I write and if they do what their thoughts are. Drop me a message on my Guestbook of your thoughts.
Updated: 03-01-2023