Sunday, September 19, 2010
On the way home, at the side of the road, sits Onalee's Place. It is an old white tool shed with an overhang and a sign that says, "a dozen corn - $3.00". In this old wizened place sits an old wizened lady, who I swear has not aged for the twenty years that I have been buying corn from her. The farmhouse with green shutters stands with her as a testament to a simpler time. Though the monstrous power transformers came to loom over her and the thruway now runs wildly next to her, Onalee is not moved or bothered. She was old when I was young, and she is old still, sitting in her usual spot, unmoving and unchanging. Sometimes I wonder how long she can continue sitting and selling corn. Then I remember, time stopped for Onalee years ago.