The Legend of Youngs Corner XXXV

PART XXXV
City Hall Questions

2002 – March

Spring Break had arrived, and as usual, everyone went home. Before making the short trip to Auburn, Nathan and I had contacted each other as promised. We made arrangements to meet up at Auburn’s City Hall in a few days in order to finally put an end to all this. An end.

After spending a few days with the family, Nathan and I met one Friday afternoon in front of City Hall. It was a large building, with several police cruisers parked out front as always. Standing in front of the building, high up on a stone pedestal, was a statue of a Union Soldier. It was a Civil War memorial. How appropriate, I thought.

We entered the front doors. The building was almost empty. Nathan and I followed signs to the tax offices. We wanted to check the city’s property maps. We wanted to find a name. The Old Woman.

“Over there,” Nathan said. “Look.”
He pointed at the end of a long hallway. There, at the far end, was a large table with two huge rectangular shaped books sprawled on top. As we walked towards it, passing taxing offices to our left and right, I could feel the adrenaline rush in my veins. This was it. This was the answer we were looking for.

We reached the table. The book covers read ‘Auburn Property Lines and Tax Registry.’ Nathan opened one of them. He scrolled through the index.
“I found it,” he said. “Youngs Corner Rd., page 57.”
“We’re almost there.”
“You do it. It’s always been your journey. You turn the page,” Nathan offered.

I stepped up and flipped the massive pages to the one labeled 57. I saw my road, my house, the barn across the street, and the woods. I could see the border of Taylor Pond on the opposite side of the woods. The cabins were somewhere in between. And suddenly, just like that night of the first journey, there they were, out of no where. The cabins. I found them.

“What’s it say?” Nathan asked, with a certain intensity.
“Last Records: 1972.” I whispered.
“So who are they from? Who owns the land? Who owns the cabins?”
I looked down at the grid.
“…Norma.”

Norma. It was a name. An old name. For an Old Woman.