When you think happiness
Tonight it felt like fall for the first time.
I went for a walk and wore pants not shorts, and I didn't sweat really, and there was a teeny chill in the air . . . the kind of chill that is only going to deepen, so that by October my nose and fingers will be numb when I come inside.
And at 7:40 it was definitely almost dark . . . not too long ago it was 8:40 and not totally dark yet.
I went through my familiar neighborhoods, the suburbs right outside the city, and looked at the big houses full of lights and people. This neighborhood is old suburbia, some houses were built in the 1920s, and some in the 40s, and some in the 60s. All the houses are unique, and sit on big lawns and are sheltered by big trees. (Unlike the suburban houses of today, which are cheap and huge and identical and thrown up in a field and smooshed up against each other).
(This really pisses me off by the way. I can feel my blood pressure rising when I think about it. Once a counselor asked me what I was passionate about (in an attempt to guide me to a career) and I said "preserving farmland." Which I think she thought was a weird answer).
Anyway, I like walking past these old cool houses. I've been in five or ten of them, thanks to Sunday afternoon Open Houses. It's a great way to see inside houses that you'd never otherwise get into.
There's one house where a bunch of kids are often outside. This makes me happy, because the crazy kids of today are never outside, and also because it reminds me of summer evenings in Lancaster when I used to play outside with my cousins. I've seen these kids playing kickball, and one night they were running around the house playing hide-and-seek or kick-the-can or something. Then, more recently (but before it got cold), I heard splashing, and the thunsh of someone jumping into a pool, and kids' voices, and I realized that they had a pool behind their house.
And all those sounds took me back about fifteen years, and I physically wrapped my arms around myself. It felt like someone had turned over a rock and all the memories were suddenly vulnerable and exposed.
I tried to figure out what that was all about. Nostalgia, yes. But nostalgia normally doesn't wallop me like that . . . I think it was more the realization that that time is gone. Not that I'm depressed about that, really. I don't spend lots of time wishing I was back in high school, or (god forbid) middle school, but sometimes it strikes me that there are happy times that I've experienced that are not re-creatable.
And I wonder, when was the last time I did that (whatever it was) that I loved . . . and did I know that it was the last time?
I went for a walk and wore pants not shorts, and I didn't sweat really, and there was a teeny chill in the air . . . the kind of chill that is only going to deepen, so that by October my nose and fingers will be numb when I come inside.
And at 7:40 it was definitely almost dark . . . not too long ago it was 8:40 and not totally dark yet.
I went through my familiar neighborhoods, the suburbs right outside the city, and looked at the big houses full of lights and people. This neighborhood is old suburbia, some houses were built in the 1920s, and some in the 40s, and some in the 60s. All the houses are unique, and sit on big lawns and are sheltered by big trees. (Unlike the suburban houses of today, which are cheap and huge and identical and thrown up in a field and smooshed up against each other).
(This really pisses me off by the way. I can feel my blood pressure rising when I think about it. Once a counselor asked me what I was passionate about (in an attempt to guide me to a career) and I said "preserving farmland." Which I think she thought was a weird answer).
Anyway, I like walking past these old cool houses. I've been in five or ten of them, thanks to Sunday afternoon Open Houses. It's a great way to see inside houses that you'd never otherwise get into.
There's one house where a bunch of kids are often outside. This makes me happy, because the crazy kids of today are never outside, and also because it reminds me of summer evenings in Lancaster when I used to play outside with my cousins. I've seen these kids playing kickball, and one night they were running around the house playing hide-and-seek or kick-the-can or something. Then, more recently (but before it got cold), I heard splashing, and the thunsh of someone jumping into a pool, and kids' voices, and I realized that they had a pool behind their house.
And all those sounds took me back about fifteen years, and I physically wrapped my arms around myself. It felt like someone had turned over a rock and all the memories were suddenly vulnerable and exposed.
I tried to figure out what that was all about. Nostalgia, yes. But nostalgia normally doesn't wallop me like that . . . I think it was more the realization that that time is gone. Not that I'm depressed about that, really. I don't spend lots of time wishing I was back in high school, or (god forbid) middle school, but sometimes it strikes me that there are happy times that I've experienced that are not re-creatable.
And I wonder, when was the last time I did that (whatever it was) that I loved . . . and did I know that it was the last time?
posted by Melanie at 8:48 PM
