New Things Old Things

Ever come to a point where the past and present merge? Or at the very least, meet. Today my youngest had an interview for a job at a facility attached to my old high school. The nuns retire here and she saw an ad in the paper advertising for a part time trainable position. I was thrilled. As she nervously filled out her application, I sat looking around this amazing facility. Amidst the contemporary eye-ball lighting, muted wall colors, I discovered that the furnishings were from the original building, built at the turn of the century. I had attended college in this building and had loved it's vintage look. AS various sisters moved through, coming and going from their outings, walks and activities, I detected my hands getting moist, a row of perspiration bubbles formed on my upper lip. I was once again 16 and waiting outside the principal's office. What tricks the mind plays on us. This is not about me, I had to remind myself; this is not my past or my future, but my daughter's present. I like that.