I walked by the Village Green today and the white, picket fence and green, green grass has gone.
The oval had stood the test of time but did not survive the jury of change, and I cannot decide if it is a good or bad decision.
Had it all been a dream?
All-inclusive change in the hands of the unskilled can be a broad, reckless slash of the paint brush because a committed artisan needs engagement and education to repair the cracks.
And the self righteous and dogmatic have neither.
Do we need to bury the past to save the future?
History tells us yes but history is littered with loss.
For better or worse we are a collective of what went before, even as we change together on our cosmic flight to the stars.
I take solace in a well painted, picket fence and seek comfort through bare feet strolling over thick, green grass.
But who am I to know?