Thu, 19 May 2005

jubilation
When she was twentyfive and the first house went up in the empty lot where all her critical childhood events took place she angsted a little, and felt impotent toward the endless creep of progress, but essentially considered it a done deal, sealing it up inside herself. It’s thirteen years later and the lot has returned, property value fluctuations and the collapse of the new mall out by the interstate and finally the tornado that gutted Twin Oaks from Jackson to Kennedy tearing the development out by the roots, uncovered basements filled with topsoil hosting indian grass and cattails and drain fixtures. She drove up one Fourth of July weekend, parked the car by the concrete barrier and walked what she could remember of old paths now twice-buried, the occasional suburban artifact overturned down beneath the weeds: a fork, a torso and head of a Skeletor action figure, a keyring to vanished doors. It was the same, but not the same, and the hope she had that something had been returned to her slowly fell away as she watched the wind whip Wal-Mart bags caught in the year-old trees.
(12:24.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #