Our small selves hold such huge trees, sprawling views. I love being able to look back through the circles of all the seasons. Have a good day tomorrow. Come back to this home often, please. (Audrey)
What a sweet, sad, story of place and promise. So many of these lines fill me with memories and remind me to appreciate what I have.
"A lot of long inner good-byes that don’t have words."
"I never saw the woods for the first time; it was always there."
"It was my backdrop, a canopy, an enclosure, a hug of green. A corner of peace and sustainability, amidst the change of suburban sprawl, of the riotous 1960s, of my own growth, toddler, teen to man."
"There is nothing really to do but reflect, the magic having been completed sometime earlier when I wasn’t looking."
And best of all, this one, which feels like it encapsulates every childhood memory seen through adult eyes. : "Standing in the woods, the echoes of past activities seemed particularly faint, my feet and body particularly large on this stage where so many small events happened." Who among us can't relate to that peculiar feeling of simultaneous intimacy and distance?
Just beautiful, friend. I hope the new place has you wrapped in a welcoming embrace on your second official night there. Welcome home!
As ever, thanks Elizabeth for reading and reflecting. I am often unsure how things “land” with an audience of readers. Often I feel that mine is an odd perspective, well-told, maybe, occasionally humorous, but not something most people think about. I am so glad you are out there listening.
Well, I don’t know about most people, but I think I can safely say there are many who appreciate being prompted to see something from a fresh perspective. I’m glad you offer that.
So lovely Stew. Reads like poetry. Mournful. Beautiful.
Our small selves hold such huge trees, sprawling views. I love being able to look back through the circles of all the seasons. Have a good day tomorrow. Come back to this home often, please. (Audrey)
What a sweet, sad, story of place and promise. So many of these lines fill me with memories and remind me to appreciate what I have.
"A lot of long inner good-byes that don’t have words."
"I never saw the woods for the first time; it was always there."
"It was my backdrop, a canopy, an enclosure, a hug of green. A corner of peace and sustainability, amidst the change of suburban sprawl, of the riotous 1960s, of my own growth, toddler, teen to man."
"There is nothing really to do but reflect, the magic having been completed sometime earlier when I wasn’t looking."
And best of all, this one, which feels like it encapsulates every childhood memory seen through adult eyes. : "Standing in the woods, the echoes of past activities seemed particularly faint, my feet and body particularly large on this stage where so many small events happened." Who among us can't relate to that peculiar feeling of simultaneous intimacy and distance?
Just beautiful, friend. I hope the new place has you wrapped in a welcoming embrace on your second official night there. Welcome home!
As ever, thanks Elizabeth for reading and reflecting. I am often unsure how things “land” with an audience of readers. Often I feel that mine is an odd perspective, well-told, maybe, occasionally humorous, but not something most people think about. I am so glad you are out there listening.
Well, I don’t know about most people, but I think I can safely say there are many who appreciate being prompted to see something from a fresh perspective. I’m glad you offer that.
thanks for this, Stew. Trees regrow and regenerate, and so do we. Best of luck with your move, and your discovery of great new trees!
May you savor the new forests lucky enough to have your thoughtful gaze!
Just arrived. It is night now, but I will explore tomorrow!