The People Behind My Eyes

For major holidays and special occasions Indianapolis hosts a fireworks display from the top of the tallest building downtown. Where I use to live I could see the fireworks outside my 19^th floor window as if the city had a light show just for me. It was as if they exploded in every colour right there in front of my window, one after the other, just for me. There will be throngs of people downtown this evening and I am pleased, once again, to not be among them.

I use to fantasize about disappearing in the light show. The colours would fade and so would I but then I’d come right back to life with the next explosion, sort of like I can fade but I’ll come back brighter and stronger. Of course there’s the crescendo of fireworks that made my final statement, I’ll be the strongest near my end and you’ll remember me. I loved it.

I am not one to sit and fantasize. I was taught that it was wrong because it always lead to sexual things. It’s one of those early lessons that never got unlearned. Well, the other day as I sat and listened to my rock garden waterfall (donated by Keepers Korner) I was reminded of a time when I had my private fantasies and felt no guilt about them. In the 6^th grade my mother let me skip off to the neighborhood library branch to read this or that novel. I did exactly as I said I would, I went to the library and chose a few books but one day my curiosity got the best of me and I ventured off my straight there and straight back promise. To get to the library you had to cross a little tiny bridge that went over a little tiny stream. To get down to the stream you had to go down a deep embankment of rich grass and wild flowers. Once down I found a haven that I will never forget. It looked like nothing above the city that I’d ever seen. I always thought of the city as a dirty, noisy place but even when cars went over the bridge I didn’t seem as offensive as when they passed by me while walking. Funny how you can take an overpass with a water stream and a few rocks and make it into your own private paradise.

There were white sandy beaches that lead to concrete walls that held up this city bridge but at the end of the white sand was a water stream holding moss covered rocks and housing fish, frogs and of course those pesky water snakes. If there was an image that could show what it looked like back then this would be it and this. But in my mind it was more like this, and fish like this, and white sandy beaches like this. The woman in the last photo sits alone looking out on the water, appreciating the power of what she is seeing, the power of beauty, of the water, of the solitude. That is what I felt when I traveled to my own little island under the city. It was all mine, all mine even though occasionally shirtless boys with fishing poles invaded my little island, all mine even though I had to pick up an old soda can now and then because someone had the audacity to litter on MY Island. I loved it. I absolutely loved it.

I thought about that haven the other day when I’d adjusted the rocks on my rock garden water fall and found I could make the sound increased to the drip of yesterdays peace.

Austin’s August

Fireworks and Fantasy
Sunday, December 31, 2006-1:25PM EST