Marrow in These Bones

Where I live, most of the old schoolhouses became community halls, active for a while, then eventually nothing at all. It was nostalgia that saved them, kept alive by folks with fond memories, before big schools came in the 60s. With most of their former students gone, it's hard to keep the stories standing. This one is remarkably intact, though windswept and worn, missing shingles, cracked foundation. Out back is the old outhouse, two rooms with doors for boys and girls, three seats in each with no barriers between them. Can't say if there's ever life coming back to this place, or what that would mean this long down the line. But it'll have to be something that matters now, not just for the sake of what was. I'm certainly not the one to make it happen – I don't do anything social more than three or four times a year. Could be marrow in these bones again, some business or home. Whatever comes should be soon. It's been half a life since recess let out, and there won't be another.

 

March 27, 2021

Welsford, Nova Scotia

 

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