It becomes rather painful to me, that eleven days from today, I shall be a 57year old child. Last evening I took this photograph of myself from Sopchoppy, our now gone house in the background, taken when but two years of age, and submerged it in the geode nearest the front door. I have several of these scattered about the yard, taken from my dad's place. This one rested in the old place off the back porch under the tall spigot. I remember many a honeybee gathering around the rim drinking. I now make effort to keep it full of water.
For you see, it is the fountain of memory. A portal as well. Many a day I have bent as the bee and drank from the depths. And soon, before me rises the old photographs from Sopchoppy and Monticello and Kentucky. And I am for the time quenched, and I am not the aging 57 year old child, stooping painfully low and peering into the geode.
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