I went for an evening bike ride.
The neighborhood is full of kids on their bikes and folks walking this evening.
When I am riding:
Little boys on bikes peddle faster to pass me, and look at me out of the corner of their eyes.
Women look down or away, but react thrilled when I say hello.
Men stop what they are doing to watch me bike past.
Little girls yell HI and wave.
HI Lady!
HI child!
There is a forgotten side street called Airport Drive. It’s a lollipop loop with a one lane escape to the main road. The Y has a treed island in it. Every kid on this street was out playing. They took turns on each others’ bikes. Their laughter was so loud, it was like screaming bloody murder. The parents puttered in the yards. A man was changing his oil. A couple was washing their car. Old dogs lounged tied up to some porches, stretchy cats made half hearted attempts at bugs on others. On those same porches were chattering conversations, in their own or across to others. And the laughter echoed off the train’s noise. Everyone looked out for everybody. Every child was cared for and chided by whomever was closest.
The houses have warped plywood for make shift patches. Tarps replace windows. Driveways are broken up, screens slashed, planters chipped and empty, mailboxes eschew. To listen- just to listen- to this isolated little street, it is the best neighborhood in Georgia.
Monday, May 30, 2011
The Street I Grew Up On
Upstate NY is beautiful. I compare everywhere I go with places I've seen there. Glaciers cut and sliced there way through. I never knew until very recently the finding fossils was an uncommon thing. The creek we played in was so full of rocks decorated with leaves and shells.
Everything is all colors at some point during the year. The trees are a warm gray in winter, yellowy and white and pink in spring opening into deep green leaves. The fall leaves are no one color, each leaf detailed and highlighted with several shades of red and orange and yellow, and finally the warm satisfied gray. I always saw the sunlight filtered through the gobos of tress. Springs and waterfalls are everywhere: so commonplace, that we all forget how pretty they are. What an amazing thing to be part of everyday.
I remember the sky - clear country sky so very blue, you could see how deep it is, see it's layers and moods. Clouds cast their shadows, and I pretended they were islands, and if I stepped off the side, I would fall in the sky ocean and fall forever. Maybe that’s why I call kite flying "sky fishing".
Even more so was the sky at night. With no street lights anywhere, the stars cast a light that could be seen. In summer, especially when the moon was new, I could see a white hazy crescent across the sky. The Milky Way. I could see across the galaxy. Is it any wonder I so wanted to travel there, to touch those stars so numerous, nobody would miss it if I took just one? Years later when Dan got back from Alaska, he showed me where to see the Northern Lights in the fall and winter. They were not as bright as what he had seen, but fascinating just the same. Dad always woke us up in the dead of night to see eclipses and meteor showers, stellar phenomenon. And that moon, bright as any flashlight. It would keep me up at night shinning on the snow. I was never afraid of the night there.
The street I grew up on was Scenic Drive. I have ended up on the other end of the country. I still miss upstate New York. Luckily, that doesn't stop me from taking in where I am now.
Everything is all colors at some point during the year. The trees are a warm gray in winter, yellowy and white and pink in spring opening into deep green leaves. The fall leaves are no one color, each leaf detailed and highlighted with several shades of red and orange and yellow, and finally the warm satisfied gray. I always saw the sunlight filtered through the gobos of tress. Springs and waterfalls are everywhere: so commonplace, that we all forget how pretty they are. What an amazing thing to be part of everyday.
I remember the sky - clear country sky so very blue, you could see how deep it is, see it's layers and moods. Clouds cast their shadows, and I pretended they were islands, and if I stepped off the side, I would fall in the sky ocean and fall forever. Maybe that’s why I call kite flying "sky fishing".
Even more so was the sky at night. With no street lights anywhere, the stars cast a light that could be seen. In summer, especially when the moon was new, I could see a white hazy crescent across the sky. The Milky Way. I could see across the galaxy. Is it any wonder I so wanted to travel there, to touch those stars so numerous, nobody would miss it if I took just one? Years later when Dan got back from Alaska, he showed me where to see the Northern Lights in the fall and winter. They were not as bright as what he had seen, but fascinating just the same. Dad always woke us up in the dead of night to see eclipses and meteor showers, stellar phenomenon. And that moon, bright as any flashlight. It would keep me up at night shinning on the snow. I was never afraid of the night there.
The street I grew up on was Scenic Drive. I have ended up on the other end of the country. I still miss upstate New York. Luckily, that doesn't stop me from taking in where I am now.
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