In my latest post “A Summer day”, I begin with a look out my front door. It’s raining, lightly with short bursts of thunder overhead. A trip to my in-laws, and two Sandhill cranes stare at me from across the field, no more rain, but slightly windy and overcast.
I decide from there to take a short trip to my place of childhood. Beginning with a small public access where I would spend my mornings on summer break, swimming out as far as I could, treading there until out of breath, and slowly swimming back to shore. The road that leads there has almost disappeared from well cut grass, presumably from the neighbours on each side.
Not far from my house was a sand pit, where I would spend hours running and jumping from the edge, to see how far I could go. The roots from the trees at the edge hung over, as if one could hide, dig in, escape… I would search the bottom for unusual rocks, and put them in my pockets for my bike ride home. When at times too, we (my brother and his friends) would ride off the edge of the pit, daredevil style, testing our fears. But all that too has overgrown with ferns and small trees. The pit smaller from 30+ years of erosion, slowing filling what once was a large sandy hole in the ground.
I complete my daydream with a trip to the other side of the lake, generally one not favoured by the locals. The park although has the amenities that favor a small get-together or group party, with a nice view.
Going back makes me think about the phrase “you can never go back”. As we change, so do those things that helped make us who we are today. I satisfied my curiosity, and took comfort knowing that the past is truly the past...
Michael.
I decide from there to take a short trip to my place of childhood. Beginning with a small public access where I would spend my mornings on summer break, swimming out as far as I could, treading there until out of breath, and slowly swimming back to shore. The road that leads there has almost disappeared from well cut grass, presumably from the neighbours on each side.
Not far from my house was a sand pit, where I would spend hours running and jumping from the edge, to see how far I could go. The roots from the trees at the edge hung over, as if one could hide, dig in, escape… I would search the bottom for unusual rocks, and put them in my pockets for my bike ride home. When at times too, we (my brother and his friends) would ride off the edge of the pit, daredevil style, testing our fears. But all that too has overgrown with ferns and small trees. The pit smaller from 30+ years of erosion, slowing filling what once was a large sandy hole in the ground.
I complete my daydream with a trip to the other side of the lake, generally one not favoured by the locals. The park although has the amenities that favor a small get-together or group party, with a nice view.
Going back makes me think about the phrase “you can never go back”. As we change, so do those things that helped make us who we are today. I satisfied my curiosity, and took comfort knowing that the past is truly the past...
Michael.
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