They are starting demolition (and perhaps finishing- don't know how long it will take) on the house that my Grandparents owned. Where I had many of the happiest time growing up. Today. I'm not sure how to take it. I have been in a state of sadness about the whole thing for a very long time. But now, not so much. I know from experience and from talking to my Dad that it's in very bad shape. Knew that. But that doesn't really change things internally.
I sure as hell don't know what it will be like to drive by that corner and not see the place. It's on one of the busiest corners in the home town (very valuable and up till today wasted real estate), and they are doing some very creative and positive changes. But it will be different. And different isn't always easy.
When I was about 8 or 9 they tore down the Motel that the Grandparents ran. That was extremely hard at the time. I still reel away from how it felt, and really don't want to dive too deeply into that place today. (I do still have to go to work). It is all such a morass. Losing them wrapped up in losing the place wrapped up in loss of many other things that occurred during that time period. All deeply felt, and all regrettable. And none of it under my control at the time- which adds to the whole thing- nothing worse than the frustration and helplessness of being a child. And watching things you care about disintegrate without any power to help/change/alter the situation.
And there you have it. Nothing creative. No fun with words. Just perplexing ambiguity, and an overall sense of crankiness. Bet you are all glad that you aren't The Boy. (who today we shall dub, The Poor Boy - I crack myself up...)I wish I could call in, go back to bed and just ignore life for the day. But that's just not gonna happen. And sooner or later I will stop feeling sorry for myself. I promise. Because it is one of those things I really do hate.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment