I went for a walk tonight. My first in a long time.
The last walk I went on, there were still pumpkins out there. Many of them lined up for disposal, some even sitting near garbage cans, awaiting their fate.
I wished I could have saved them all.
It's always strange to go on walks when I haven't in awhile. The timing is interesting. Usually, as the last pumpkins left out in the world rot, it becomes too cold to go out again until March arrives.
An interesting cycle; a strange coincidence.
In my mind's eye, I can see what once was. And as I walk, I feel like I am in some dream state version of my neighborhood. Like when you dream of your home, but it's not quite your home. An extra hallway, a missing window, a gateway to something that isn't really there, or nothingness where there should be something. It's real, but it isn't. It's familiar, but it's foreign.
I think of the movie Skinamarink, where the children ask, 'Where did it go?' as they discover a solid wall where there was once a window.
Where did it go?
How can this world, devoid of skeletons and spiders and pumpkins and bats, drained of the colors of autumn leaves, be the same one that I felt so perfectly at home in, just a few short months ago? How can it be here, yet not be here, all at once?
The world only looks the way I see it in my mind for a short period of time. A month, maybe two. Perhaps three if the pumpkins linger from September until Thanksgiving. And yet, it's this other version of the world that feels fake to me, like it's missing something.
Like it's all just some kind of hoax or game.
That first walk of the year feels like pulling out a Lego set, and slowly building a city.
I've seen this before. I've done this before.
But it won't be complete for a long while.
I only have my mind to fill in the blanks.
Comments
Post a Comment