Time Travel

Today, I took a different route to the office. I would love to say this was a conscious, self-improvement tactic. Instead,  I turned at the traffic light at the bottom of the hill where I should have gone straight. I realized my goof about 200 yards later.

I would love to be able to say I was meditating upon vastly ponderous matters. The simple truth is, I was on auto pilot, and Otto the Pilot determined the road to the park seemed like the thing to take.

Oh well, not being one to fret over such a little thing, I continued upon my way. Besides, the school bus 6 feet off my rear bumper made it difficult to easily stop and turn around. Relaxing, I gazed about at all the changes this little road has seen in the past many years.

I began that wonderful bit of time-travel known as “Didn't Used to Be...”

I recalled when the curbs and sidewalks didn't used to be along the roadway. It was a winding, two-lane, dirt-shouldered rural road when we arrived in this town.

I thought back to the time when the street with the bigger, more ornate homes didn't used to be there. Only woods stretching up the hillside; filled with hardwood trees and hidden patches of wild blackberries.

Since I was committed to a road less traveled this morning, I decided to do it right.

I drove along a road, looking at the development that didn't used to be in its present spot. Rather, the land was owned by a private preparatory school, and had woods, meadows, and riding trails.

I turned onto the state route which borders the Chagrin River. My thoughts went back to the Native Americans whose feet laid the foundation for this piece of two-lane. They referred to it as The Flint Trail. Just think of all the didn't used to be things those folks could comment upon!

Past a park that just a few years ago didn't used to be there; another new housing spot that didn't used to be there; rather; a picturesque weathered barn set beside a fallow pasture with second growth woods creeping back occupied the spot.

Eventually, I parked in front of the office building that didn't used to be here, across from a now bustling airport. It didn't used to be this way; I recalled it as not much more than a well-mown grass landing strip with some pre-WWII hangars along the sides.

With the closing “click” of the Jeep's door, my time-travel ended. It was a pleasant little trip, nice to get away for a short while.

I set off for my job, with a company, in an office building; all of which didn't used to be here.

 

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