It seems odd that I think of the ebb and flow of tides often since I'm almost 500 miles from the closest tidal waters. Metaphorically, it best describes the movement of the seasons as they affect the comings and goings of travelers at Afton Station. Every fall it seems as though there is at least one day like this one - dark, chilly, and I'm all alone here musing on my own mortality. It's normal, I'm sure. It's the season for people to be doing their own things. Travel becomes rare and the conviviality of the holiday season hasn't quite hit yet. Being here alone seems so futile, and yet rarely has a day here at the Station not improved if I just stick it out to the end.
Ron M. wasn't available today and because of the prediction of heavy rains all day I had thought about not coming here myself. Yet something pulled me toward the car and down to Route 66. Once I'm on 66, it feels like home to me and manages to cure most of my ills. At breakfast in Claremore, I listened to the working men at the next table lament the loss of a colleague, their best carpenter. I thought they meant death but it was merely his resignation. Thank goodness. I didn't need to hear grim news on a morning like this.
It's almost noon and I've had one visitor so far, a young woman from Joplin, MO who was just passing through and decided to stop after she noticed our interesting exterior. That brightened my day considerably. Marly stopped in briefly, too, but couldn't stay.
A brother and sister from Cincinnati, OH winding their way back home from California after a full Route 66 trip came about an hour later. Their visit further brightened my day, both by their presence and by the substantial purchases they made. Here they are.
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