Closer to Mobile than Montgomery, wedged between woods and water, is a place nobody goes. A few homes, a church and cemetery scattered along a road leading somewhere else. Parents hope opportunity. They remember before it was paved. Now broken white and yellow lines on gray stretch up, down, around, away. Maps show a thread, Highway 59, emerging into a rope, Interstate 65. Travelers blurring through at night or without reading the church sign don’t know they’re seeing what’s left of a town. Those that do think they see a peaceful solitary country community, an actual Gone with the Wind Grandma Moses’ Hallmark card where everyday life like nostalgia takes time.
from IN MEMORY OF