On the street where I grew up, there were a few houses where the “renters” lived. The one across the street had an ever-changing cast of characters with a common interest in selling pot and/or beating each other up.
There was one summer, though, where a woman moved in about 4 houses down on my side. A house with a big verandah out front. She was probably still in her twenties then, but she seemed old and world-weary to us. Kind of Janis Joplin with library glasses. Sometimes of an evening she’d come out on the porch with her guitar and the gang of street kids would sit on the step or sit on the wide rails around her and she’d lead us in song. Puff the Magic Dragon was a big hit, but Leaving on a Jet Plane was my favourite. She always sang it like she had left someone behind, or that someone had left her.
She was there only a summer before she moved off. I always assumed she joined a travelling band, or became a gypsy.
We thought she was pretty magical. I wonder if she thought we were magic too.