Every Saturday Night
In those final years before television
and long before computers,
we’d fly in unison
to our small town’s
sole scintillating diversion—
following the usher
in
single
file
down
the
narrow
center
aisle,
to sink into that seat closest to the magic screen.
At its first ignition,
our minds automatically shifted
to an outside world
devoid of waving wheat fields,
gravel streets
and minds
consumed
by
cattle,
ballgames,
church
and
books—
diversions
less glamorous
than this view
out into the wide wide world.
Prompt word today are Saturday night, fly, unison, scintillating, automatic and follow. Image by Noom Peerapong on Unsplash.
lifelessons - a blog by Judy Dykstra-Brown 
And yet, after all, we still yearn — a little — for small town life and its simplicity. The big wide world hasn’t turned out to be nearly as much fun as we though it would be when we were mesmerized by the movies.
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Even in the big wide world, I liked the little towns best. I live in one now.
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All I think about these days is rain. Today I realized the levels in the toilets is low. The tanks aren’t filling completely. This wasn’t supposed to happen here.
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This takes me back to Saturday Morning Pictures in the 1940s and ’50s
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Very cleverly constructed.
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