Okay, I got kind of Mopey McMoperson there, as I am wont to do. Sometimes when I intend to end an entry with “and then I cried,” I don’t want the entry to start off all cheery and then spiral down into it.I take the balls-and-glory approach of “BAH! SAD! READ ABOUT IT!” However, I just tapped into my neighbor’s unsecured wireless network, which totally just gave me a boost, so let’s go with it.
I went home over Memorial Day weekend. An extended stay at the Rockford homestead is more or less like rehab. But, you know, in a good way. In that I understand how much NOISE is in my life, both in my environment and in my head. My parents’ home is set back in the woods on ten acres of quiet. There are turkeys and raccoons and hummingbirds and my mom talks of cheeky tree frogs that climb the screen doors. I planted petunias and sweet woodruff alongside the house, and it was breezy and cool and I played the oldies radio station. It was one of the most rewarding things I’ve done, to sit on the ground, feel the earth, cultivate.
I also spent some quality time with old friends, and completely fell in love with them, all over again. On Friday, Matt and I gathered together a random smattering of people from various eras of our lives. I sipped on ale and laughed and laughed and everything seemed…right. I catch myself on such nights, looking contentedly around the room, my brain manufacturing the memory.
I wish I could bottle nights like those.
May 28th, 2009 at 9:52 pm
Those bottles are brown and green and imperfect. Full to the brim of what we love.
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May 29th, 2009 at 10:58 am
i grew up on 40 acres of woods and farmland. city livin’ never feels right to me, but i guess i don’t have to drive 45 minutes to get to a decent bar.
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