Afternoon Sun

There’s a small red brick building on the main road that straddles the corner.

It’s door is made of glass and it looks like a house almost, partitioned off into offices.

My mother worked there as a travel agent in the early to mid nineties—from the last parts of my childhood, to when I started high school.

The VFW is located across the street, and now I emerge in late afternoon/early evening. That building has been my father’s place to gather, have drinks, chat, watch sports, and just be himself for over 50 years.

That time of day is when the sun hits its warmest hues, touching everything around these two buildings in the heart of the area where I grew up. That always feels like home when I visit. The soft glow of the slowly setting sun piques my memories of a very specific time and place.

It’s more obvious in the summer because the air is warm and the trees and flowers are out, and it reminds me of that paused time during the year when as kids we were free to enjoy long, hot days of play or exploration. Free to get up when the air was still cool through our windows, and be outside, go to the pool, or enjoy our toys without a care.

It catches my attention every time, and I feel like my body and mind shifts back to 1993 when I would walk up to meet my mom as she left work in the red brick building.

I was a shy child and was always afraid of getting lost and having to speak to a stranger, but she wanted me to know that I could do things. She’d call towards the end of the day and say leave in 10 minutes and take Lady (our sweet dog) and just walk to the top of the street and turn right. Keep walking and look both ways when you cross the streets.

It wasn’t a far walk, and I did always feel accomplished when I’d start down the hill and see her waiting for me on the corner, done with her work day and ready to walk home.

The dog and I would be so happy to see her, and it was always around this magic time in a summer day, 4:30-5:30 when my day brightened and she could come home with me. I loved spending time with her and I remember she was always dressed so nicely, but made sure to have her walking shoes on. I copied this when I worked downtown for 10 years.

Sometimes I would have to wait outside for her to get off work, but that was ok. If I didn’t have the dog I would tepidly open the glass door and get to see where she worked for a minute. There were posters on the walls of exotic destinations (she was a travel agent), and a high reception desk. I don’t know if she loved working there, because I remember her crying sometimes. She had a bad boss I want to say, but liked the ladies she worked with.

The travel agency is long closed, and now the building is apartments. But it still has that glass door. When I leave the VFW after meeting my father there weekly, I am always drawn back to that very special time in my life, summer during my childhood, and before my mother’s sickness. I wish I could remember what we talked about.