vacation

i'm at my parent's house. people want to do stuff, but no one ever says "let's do this at this time so that it actually happens." so nothing really happens and i just spend most of my time fiddling on my new laptop (not really new, it's my mom's old work laptop that she never used.)

so i stepped out to go for a run. 37 degrees but it feels like 50. perfect, clear colorado air. if i could just take the culture of new york, and the pacific ocean and all it's beautiful waves to surf, and plop them down here - then i would move back. as is, the neighborhood is quiet. a few people are out walking their dogs. a few random snowflakes fall even though of the few puffy clouds dotting the blue sky it's not really enough to make snow. the fever of the few. i love the constantly changing weather here. it always moves west to east - the west is my north, my homing beacon - clearly defined by the rockies lining the horizon.

i jogged down the street to where it dead ends at a place we appropriately called dead end park when i was growing up. i continued on a path that runs by it. a few tall trees remain, but for the most part the surrounding area is completely different from what i remember. what used to be a huge open field and farm now contains a wal-mart, some chain restaurants, a costco, sam's club, and a car dealership. newly sprouted, horribly designed apartment complexes make me cringe. i turned left, down the path to a little lake that has always been there. in my mind we called this duck lake. it's frozen over, but the edges were melting so i didn't step out far onto the ice - just enough to skid around and pretend i was ice skating.

on the way back, i stopped at dead end park and sat on a swing. i swung on the swing, a swing swang swung, and thought of nothing important. i said hello to the beagles in the yard next door, i wondered if the metal components of the swing would hold my weight after all these years of being exposed to the elements. i remembered when this park was built, how our other parks were abandoned when this one came along because it was shiny and new. the tricks i could do on the monkey bars, the flips and spins - i could try and hurt myself by attempting them again, but i just sat there. i thought of the design of the playground, how i would do it differently.

i felt a pressing urge to continue on, though i have no plans or things to get done. for some reason i could not stop, i could only allow myself to relax momentarily, for a certain slotted amount of time. i gave up trying to calm down, and continued my run. i was quickly distracted again by this path that leads to a grassy area adjacent to a ditch that flows behind the houses. i used to play here with my friends. the concrete walls of the ditch are slanted at a steep angle, perfect for showing off how you could jump from one side of the wall to the other without falling in. further down the ditch were cattails, growing in the swampy ditch water. i remembered our cattail wars, coming home covered head to toe in light brown fluff. i took a ripe cattail and twisted it - its soft contents exploded in my hand. i waved the cattail back and forth and the feathery down took flight like dandelion seeds.

as soon as i stopped my actions, the neighborhood stilled once more. the magic rests in the memories, i suppose. i could do all those things i used to do, but adults have a different kind of fun now and sometimes it works for me, sometimes not. it's harder to attain the same level of happiness from those activities. i'm back inside, in front of the computer again - a familiar spot, writing wistful nothings and waiting for something to do.