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Show 58 One more year. And then what? What were her plans for college? She wanted to go to Mount Mary's, she said. A lot of the other girls were going there. Good, he said. He had never regretted going to Loyola instead of one of the state schools. They talked about filling out the forms, how to apply, who to see. And then it was time to go. She had him drop her over a dozen blocks from the house, at the nearest major intersection. She wanted to walk, she told him. As he pulled away, she waved, smiling for him. She had to have some time alone. Before facing the kids. The chores of the house. And most of all, before facing Katie. Up the sloping hill she slowly trudged, through the blocks of houses. They were all large homes, four and five bedrooms and double-car garages. Newer homes, none more than ten years old, with the young maples in the spacious front yards not reaching as high as the roofs. Why she was older than this block of houses! It was hard to believe; they were so solid, so secure. But then, she reflected-pleased now that her mind was freeing itself from her destination, pleased that this walk was becoming an experience in its own right-she was older than most of the developments for miles around. As far as the eye could see on this waarm September afternoon, with a hint of the ocean in the air, were new roofs. Which had never been repaired, which were not shaded by trees but stood out over them. Hundreds-thousands-of roofs in every direction. Why she herself could remember when this section of Westchester had been fields of brown stubble: she had been raised less than five miles away, in a suburb of Santa Monica. It was as if the world had been built in the time of her childhood. Almost within living memory. |