I say home stands on a hill that runs into another hill, that touches one shade of green and smoothly transitions to another. It’s a quiet place carpeted with plush green grass and sprinkled with wild flowers. I say when I look at the ceiling of my house I can see the stars and smell the fresh air as clearly as the good meal cooking in my kitchen. Home is a fairy tale you see on TV where a family of cardinals nest outside the picture window and where purpose is as clear as the open blue sky and as mysterious and wondrous as the stars in their heavenly home. It’s a fairy tale but I want it, I told him. I want squirrels to dash up and down the trees, a dear to graze in the yard from time to time. Most of my annoyance should be someone’s milk cow that’s wondered into my yard. That to me is living. It’s a fairy tale kind of life, but I want it. No, there won’t be two and a half kids running around, just me on a nice piece of land.
He says he needs the city. He needs the lights, the noise, options is what he calls them. He likes seeing tons of people, going to ball games, golf tournaments, night clubs, dinner formals and anything else his big city offered. He says he can see green grass and hear crickets on television. As he held my arm and I shuffled along beside him in my too large robe and lips blue from low oxygen saturation I told him HDTV doesn’t give you the feeling I’m talking about. He insisted he’d take the city over country air any day. He was sure I’d never left this city. I didn’t say differently. All I know is, on every land my feet have ever come across the only time they walked comfortably was when that land was open, full of trees, full of life and mostly void of concrete.
I wanted to ask him why he’s here in this so called city. Anyone that travels from where he use to live is either running from something or to someone. He didn’t come here for educational opportunities. He didn’t come here for some huge job, after all, he was assisting me to the restroom. What are you doing here in small time USA?
Yes, eight hours of conversation, of likes and dislikes, ideas and beliefs can give you a feeling you’ve never quite felt before. I admitted in a different place, a different time, a totally different frame of mind we could have hung out. I hope you enjoyed your golf game, thanks for thinking about me at the driving range. I’ll be thinking of you as I listen to the crickets in my little home in this “little city.” That is a privilege sir because most guys I wouldn’t give a second thought.
Austin
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