Every Picture Tells a Story

There's a spot in our little town across from the library that used to be the home of a trailer park.  It's a shady, secluded sort of area.  I drove by a while ago and noticed that the lot is now full of emptiness. 

 Empy dirt areas where there used to be homes, and concrete driveways that lead to nowhere.  I originally cheered when I heard that the land had been sold and the trailers would all have to move. It was, after all, a bit of an eyesore and doing nothing for the land values in our town. 

What I didn't take into consideration as I cheerfully rejoiced in the "cleaning up" of that area, was people.  What it might be like to be told to move from your home like you are some sort of blight on the landscape.  The feelings that you are "less than...".  To be shuffled off because you stand in the way of progress.  

And that thought makes my heart ache.  That I would be so eager to surround myself with things that make me feel good, and things that make my life more comfortable, that I wouldn't take a second thought to the other side of the picture.

A single row of mailboxes stands now in the memory of what used to be.  And the only footsteps carefully tiptoeing around the mud were mine and Roscoe's.   

Linking to Storytellers-check it out here.