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"Heart of Meadowbrook"

The early morning mist clung to the towering evergreens as the first rays of sunlight filtered through the forest canopy. HC paused along the winding forest trail, breathing in the crisp mountain air. The birds had just begun their morning chorus and deer foraged along the ridge. This was HC's sanctuary, a place to retreat and center himself.


In the valley below lay the small town of Meadowbrook. Plumes of smoke rose from chimneys and the bells of St. Mary's church rang, signaling the start of a new day. HC had lived in Meadowbrook his whole life, as had his father and grandfather before him. Generations of Holberts had called this little corner of the Pacific Northwest their home. HC continued his hike, carefully stepping over moss-covered logs and ducking under low-hanging branches. The trail opened up onto a meadow, his special place, a secluded spot nestled between the mountains. A babbling creek flowed through the grassy clearing and wildflowers swayed in the gentle breeze. HC sat down among the lupines and Indian paintbrushes, closed his eyes, and inhaled deeply.


This is where he felt most at peace, most connected to the circle of life. Away from the distractions of town, he could tap into something greater than himself. Some called it God, others called it a divine spirit in all things. HC didn't worry much about what to call it, just that it brought him comfort and guidance when he quieted his mind.


The meadow also reminded HC of his own mortality. Seasons changed, plants grew and died, but the cycle continued on. Sitting here, listening to the creek's steady flow, HC felt timeless yet present.


After an hour of meditating, HC opened his eyes and made his way back down the trail. He walked at an easy pace, knowing this sense of calm would stay with him through the day ahead.


As he neared town, he heard children's laughter echoing through the trees. Soon the schoolyard swarmed into view, kids playing and yelling before the first bell. HC smiled and waved at familiar faces, remembering his own school days long gone by.


Turning onto Cedar Street, HC passed rows of quaint homes, many occupied by longtime friends. Tom Adler smoked his morning pipe on the porch, while Betty White hung laundry in their flower-filled yard. Meadowbrook was that kind of town, where everyone knew your name and lent a hand when needed.


The heavenly aroma of fresh bread met HC as he approached the corner bakery. Jean-Pierre, Meadowbrook's resident baker, waved from behind the counter.


Good morning HC! The usual?"


HC smiled and nodded, his mouth watering at the thought of a flaky croissant and dark roast coffee. While Jean-Pierre prepared his order, HC made small talk with the other customers, a mix of farmers, shop owners, and young moms.


Coffee and croissant in hand, HC strolled down Main Street, past Mac's Hardware, Gardner's Grocery, and the Meadowbrook Gazette office, where news editor Hank tipped his hat through the window. HC's presence elicited smiles and warm greetings from all who passed.


At the end of Main stood his destination, Holbert Contracting, a modest family-run operation. His son, Russ, sorted paperwork at the front desk while two employees loaded equipment into trucks, prepping for the day’s jobs.



26 de Octubre de 2023 a las 05:58 0 Reporte Insertar Seguir historia
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Howard C Holbert HC Holbert is a BMI member songwriter, visual artist, author,poet, naturalist,member of Pacific North West Artists

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