The sun called through my bedroom window. I had to get out.
I walked around the quarry’s edges and remembered how the three of us used to go out walking and exploring when we first moved here. Up and down the long gravel driveway, but also into the woods. Acres and acres of land surrounded the water-filled limestone pit, dense and lush and wooded land that edged the railway line, Windmill Point Road, Thunder Bay Road and Stonemill Road to form a grid that hid the blue oval from cars and trains and outside eyes. “You live by a quarry? Where?” people said to Mom and Dad, including locals. Our abode was a big blue secret.
During one of those walks, we came across an old stone fireplace in a grove of trees. The quarrymen must have cooked their meals there. Another time we found a glass bot
