The orange glow in the night sky

I grew up in a factory town. There was a huge paper mill that polluted the local river. And there was Armco Steel, a huge steel mill.

At night steel that had been formed into huge blocks was left outside to cool. It still glowed orange from the residual heat. So sitting on this rough concrete supporting wall at the side of the old victorian we lived in you could see the orange glow in the skyline.

It's one of those things I still remember clearly, my bare feet against the angled top of the retaining wall, the incredible humidity of southern Ohio, the black sky and the orange glow.

The paper mill no longer pollutes the river, and the steel plant is no longer in business. I go back and visit since my brother still lives in the house, but it's funny. I never really understood the quote "You can never go home again" until I've gone back and visited home, seen how much it has changed, and realized that that reality is gone, it's something my kids will never see or experience.

It wasn't all good, and it wasn't all bad, but it was what I grew up with. And when I think about it, it makes me wonder what is it in the kid's reality that will fade away in the future, but will stick with the forever. That they'll wish they could bottle up and show their own kids.