This weekend is my town's annual fall fair. Usually I shun such events for fear of running into old schoolmates, but today I felt up to any possible encounters. We parked near the house I grew up in and walked into town. A bit cool in the shade, but still plenty warm enough for shorts; it makes me believe in global warming.
Much was the same: caramel apples, card tables with crafts, local merchants with doors invitingly open. Also live music, school teams raising money, and old men on the sidewalk with their elbows out like turnstiles.
We passed my 6th grade social studies teacher and said hello as we walked into the academy building to look at a display of town artifacts. I always sat in the back of her class because I was allergic to the heavy perfume she wore. I didn't notice it today though, so perhaps she's cut back.
A group of girls in leotards and tutus performed selections of ballet along the edge of a park. The bordering sidewalk was fairly densely lined with spectators. At the end of each selection, there was applause and barks from a little dog who was politely quiet during the performances.
Two other little dogs were wheeled around in comfort: they propped their paws on the edge of a pet carrier and stuck their heads out to get a knee-high view of the world.
I miss my old house.
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