Spring (But Over Here[; Then])

14 Apr

Written a while ago, in Connecticut. I just want to get it out of my drafts folder.

I went outside twice [so far] today. Earlier, my grandfather went for a walk, and my father went along because he is my father, and my sister went along because there were puppies to be seen, and I went along because, well, I don’t know why. We walked over three rivers in a fairly large circular route, if you count two tributaries and their combined merger as three.

Torrington is a wasteland, as far as I can tell. My view of this little [relatively] southern world is highly limited, so I know I’m not getting the whole picture, but what I can see is barren and lifeless and muffled. The only two glimmers of hope were the river(s) and the park we passed… And both were surrounded by cement and darkness. (In a very light way. It wasn’t just summery in Vermont, you know.)

I lagged towards the back of our little group, walking along the high cement wall and wondering what would happen if I jumped when we came to the bridge. I want to, sometime. (I think I’d like to do things like bungee and BASE. The only thrills I’ve yet experienced come from You.)

We walked past puppies in a pet store in what I think is called a strip mall. What exactly is a strip mall?

Talking to my grandfather on the way back, I found out that he’s done about seventy-five percent of the genealogy that my mother’s done. So, theoretically, I could have most of my family’s history in my hands with not much effort- I just need to get stuff from my mother and bring the files that are apparently on a floppy or in my grandfather’s Windows 98 machine into a more compatible format… Voilà. Roots. (Hmm… You could probably find satisfaction that way, love.) Do I sense a goal? Yes I do.

The second time I went outside was for more than two hours, just sitting on the path behind the house. It’s a haven up there, away from all of the rest of the town. The garden just below is a little odd, but everything’s pleasant. There’s some sort of conifer above, and you can tell that nature has taken over- but only just enough so that everything is green. There’s a raised bed of some plants with pleasantly curved leaves… I wrote for practically all of the time, and read for the rest.

Unfinished. And it’ll stay that way.

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One Response to “Spring (But Over Here[; Then])”

  1. marc farnum rendino 14/04/2010 at 17:05 #

    that conifer was a gift to your father’s father’s parents, from your father’s mother’s parents.

    it sits, thus, very neatly, at that junction of our family trees.

    i spent a lot of time in that backyard too; glad you enjoyed it. (speaking, i’m pretty sure, for all of us.)

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