Monday, July 22, 2013

You kind of can go home again

How could I sleep?  I was waking up in Portland. The whole rest of the household was sleeping though, so I decided to get up and walk over to my old house. I've probably taken the walk between mine and Rupert and Scott's houses hundreds of times, and this time I was seeking both the familiar and the changes. It was completely familiar, of course. The houses are the same. Some of them are painted the same. Their trees and plants are mostly the same. And also they are different. Their trees and plants have grown up. Some of their colors have faded, some have been repainted. The cute little poetry and bird habitat and library way stations are all new in the past 10 years. And the last house? The beige one with the flourishing garden? That's my old house. When I had it, it was painted a spectacular deep red with gold (not yellow, but actually a deep metallic gold) trim. Those gardens and trees? I planted those, and they have become what I always hoped they would.

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