July 03, 2005
The Birthday Party (#2)
They came in from all over. Cincinnatti, D.C, Buffalo, Atlanta, and Leanne and I flew standby in middle of night. My parents opened up the cabin a few days early and by the time we arrived, all the shutters and doors were open and the fishing poles were propped up against the porch railing and everything looked like it always had despite my absence for so long.
On the first night, Perez, Stephey and I hiked to the top of Kuhn's hill where the field grass was waist high with full heads of grain and the stars wrapped around us like a scarf and faded in the halogen glow to our northeast above Logan.
I stood there for a minute in the dark. I could hear the dogs sliding through the grass like submarines below the me. I could hear my friends voices behind me emerging into the clearing. i found my out to the old jeep trail faintly laid from tire tracks from the last half century across the spine of the hillside as it rose into the dark. i stood there and listened and felt everything like is should be. I could tell exaclty where i was in the pitch dark of the night, as if i were sleep walking in my memories. i felt everything like it always had despite my absence for so long.
It was sometime during the weekend, i remember the distinct vision in my head of the globe, - or at least it was this continent - and i could see the vapor trails and interstate routes that led us all the same campfire on the same night down in the dark corner of Ohio, singing the same songs, talking about the same things and laughing face to face. i felt like i was watching my big bang theory in reverse. My universe so often feels like is getting bigger and bigger, and farther away from everywhere it used to be. But for one weekend around one cabin in the woods had collapsed back together again. and we were there, singing like we always had, despite my absence for so long.
Citronella, cheap cigar smoke, and lack of personal hygiene kept the mosquitos far enough away. Dogs slept in the shadows of clothes lines sagging between poplar trees with wet swimming suits. The swimming point had it bar of ivory soap. The radio was playing Steve Earle through the speakers dad wired out in the rafters on the porch. My parents drove clementine down to Virgina's cabin for the weekend, letting us do exactly what they used to do while they did what they do now, which mostly was coming over and visiting with us. And for those few short days, there was the enjoyment of 19 inch bass and whisky flasks, corn on the cob and the comforting feeling that everything looked like it always had, despite my absence for so long- including woody's hair, still blow dried to perfection.
it's funny how fast i can forget about all the work i have made for myself that i have made myself think i need to do. Being with my friends- which I do too scarcley- has a way of making me forget what it is that i do everyday- which i do too much of- that must be important, but never important enough to talk about when i have friends around. And somewhere on a walk in the woods i realized we are all not ready to grow up, and we are far better at wanting than having, and the dust has not settled on any of us, and life may be short but it takes a long time to get to where we feel we need to go.
and as i am learning, it takes even longer to get back.
{For soundtrack to this entry, listen to: We Never Change (iTunes). Read Lyrics.}