The Museum

The Museum,       by D. Avery

“Guess I don’t have to worry too much about getting mowed down by exiters”, he chuckled at the hand painted sign that he read out loud to himself, “Caution, Entrance Only”, and continued down the tree shaded lane and into the grassed parking lot of the Museum of Memories and Moments, already pleased with his decision to check out this quirky sounding private museum somewhat off the beaten track, even more pleased when he noted that many of the cars in the parking lot were potential museum pieces themselves, some dating back many decades.

Taking roads less traveled and making impulsive stops at unusual sites was the theme of his meandering road trip across the country, begun soon after his wife finally died, which, he would agree, doesn’t sound so good in the telling, unless one knew that she had suffered from Alzheimer’s and that he had mourned her passing years ago even as he stuck by her side, learning to do for himself as he learned to do for her.

Now he was on an extended vacation, the type of unfocused and unplanned trip that she never would have enjoyed but that gave him the time and space he needed before facing the empty house and a life without her, unencumbered now, but truly alone.

Having seen not one other person, not even the proprietor, he surmised that it was an honor system, expected to pay upon exiting, a cash donation stuffed into a lock box, and he wandered in and out of the old buildings, intrigued by the eclectic displays and intricate models, philosophizing whether it was the collection or the collector being presented for scrutiny, continuing in this manner until a diorama stopped him cold.

When he saw in perfect scale and detail the museum and its buildings as well as the parking lot with the antique and vintage cars he had seen earlier, but including his own late model car, he hurried back to the parking lot, went to its edge, the “Entrance Only” sign visible through the glass wall that contained him.

He went back to the museum grounds, somehow knowing that he’d find his house, but unsure what would be on exhibit, hoping that somehow she might be there, his wife before her illness.

*****

  The prompt word for Six Sentence Stories this week is “sign”. As always, thank you Denise from girlieontheedge  for the prompt. Go to the link up to participate or to read other responses from the Six Sentence gang. Join in!