“What do we do now?” Chris asked.
No breakfast or warm place to sit and eat it. McDonald’s must open at 6 on Sunday. There was nothing I wanted more than to sleep, my stomach wasn’t feeling that good anyway.
But we had a car and we had to go somewhere.
“Umm..” I said.
“Maybe we could find our hotel,” Chris suggested.
Oh God. Please, please let us find out hoteland go to sleep in it. I would pay anything.
“Yeah, It’s supposed to be near here,” I said. The address said Bogard road, which was right behind the McDonalds.
So I directed Chris on how to get to Bogard and we started looking at addresses. This hotel was not at all where I thought it would be. And Bogard was a lot longer than I remembered.
“Maybe they will have a vacancy and they’ll let us in early,” I hoped.
We did find it, a little hotel in a part of Wasilla I swear I’d never seen before. VERY little hotel. It was locked and the sign on the door said it opened at 9. They did have a number to call for out of hours.
“Let’s call and ask if we can get in early,” I begged Chris.
“I don’t think it would help our case to wake them up at 5 in the morning. Let’s just wait until 9.”
That made sense, even if I didn’t like it.
“Where to now?” Chris said.
“Um….I guess we could go see my old house.”
We turned around and headed off to Wasilla Fishook road. I kept being surprised at just how many trees were on the sides of the road.
I had forgotten that Shrock road did not exit directly off Fishook. There was a little dogleg, Seldon road. And even more surprising, Seldon road had this:
A real stoplight!
I had no trouble remembering THIS:
As a teenager, I would occasionally gather toghether some coins and go down to this corner store and buy candy. But it was a 45 minute walk there, so I didn’t go that often. I remember it as something I might do with a friend who came over when we were looking for a way to kill some time. I didn’t have TV or anything else at home, so, walking and talking seemed a good idea.
The little green-roofed shed in the front was certainly not there before. These things were all over in Wasilla, and they were drive through espresso stands. Unbelievable.
We went on to Shrock and then passed Black Bear and Red Fox (or some such roads) to find Bull Moose drive.
It sure wasn’t paved when I lived here. But I remember those mailboxes well. With almost no other way to socialize in home High School, I had many many pen pals.
I remember I stole mom’s mail key. She took a while to notice, and then said that Dad liked to pick up the mail when he came home. That it was a nice thing he enjoyed. But there was no way I was going to wait the 4 or 5 MILLION hours between when the mail was delivered and when Dad came home to get any potential letters. I came up with a cunning plan. I would go LOOK at the mail, and if there was a letter for me I would take it and secret it home. The rest of the mail could stay for Dad.
The days were LONG people. Let me tell you. I waited for the mail to come almost every day. During the summers, I had to be by the window and watch the cars go by to see if the mailman went past. Sometimes I would get impatient and walk down to the mailbox a couple times, just in case.
But in the WINTER! The mailtruck wore chains on its tires every day. I could tell if it went by by the marks on the snowy/ice buildup on the gravel road. So I would not have to walk allthe way down to the mailboxes, I could just go check for tracks on the road.
Winter always lasted longer than summer.
But where did the stairs to the front door go?