I got the idea from one of Julie’s posts at Perrero (I seem to be mentioning these guys a lot lately, I blame subliminal messages hidden in the posts). I can’t figure out how to permalink, but its the post entitled ‘Things I like…’.
I told Zai that I was surprising her on Saturday. And despite her hundreds of guesses, she never came close. Its not often I get the drop on someone, so it was good to not have my surprise ruined beforehand.
I spent the whole morning preparing for it. I wrestled the cooler out from underneath all the spare lumber and tools in the garage. After spilling one hundred ten billion ratchet heads on the ground and picking them up, I packed the cooler into my car and drove off to Meijer’s.
I’m not a big fan of any big store. But it is only two blocks away from my house, and its not Wal-Mart. Besides, it had a deli, and that’s what was important.
I picked up some shard cheddar cheese, some provologne for good mesure, some white grapes, and a fresh loaf of Italian bread. The kind of bread with a crispy, but not hard crust.
Superior to its counterpart, French bread.
Though French is good in its own right.
I picked up some soda and ice, and dumped it all into the cooler. I drove back home to pick up Zai, and then headed off for one last stop before our journey.
I was doing this in celebration of Zai’s birthday (on the 9th), and if there’s one thing Zai likes, its wine.
If its two things, its wine and martinis.
There’s a little wine shop that just opened up not too far from my house, so we went there and I told her ot pick out any bottle of wine she wanted.
Some may think this was a mistake, but the neat thing about this wine shop was that 95% of their stock is $35 and under. They have a little section called ‘If You Insist’ in the back for the big spenders. Zai knew my broke self well enough, so she stayed away from that section.
We leave with a bottle of some sort of Muscato white wine.
I drive along the highway, Zai becoming more curious by the second. Where could I possibly be taking her? She had no clue, even though all the clues were there.
If she had read the road signs, she’d know we were entering Calumet City. She pointed and laughed at the giant smiley-face water tower, the symbol for Calumet City. I began noting what various places used to be, “That pizza parlor used to be a movie theatre that played old movies.”
We were in the city of my childhood.
My goal was not the urban landscape, nor the history attatched. Nor even the eighteen mile long parade route that had me back-tracking and navigating through foreign backroads. No, my goal was a little road called Elizabeth Street.
We parked there, at the dead end, in front of a house I used to know. It was still not the end of the journey, now we got out and walked.
I grabbed the cooler and a blanket I picked up from home, and began walking into the forest. The trails, in all the years since I’ve seen them last, hadn’t changed much. A small tree had fallen across the path, but it was easily stepped over. After a couple twists and turns, the forest opened up into a large field. And not far from the opening was a solitary tree, as picturesque as Frost could ever imagine, standing there laden with the new leaves of Spring.
It was my spot. The place where I spent a good deal of my time as a child. There was a time before computers, and even a time before video games. It was a time where a good game might occupy an hour before either frustration or boredom set in. When that happened, I went outdoors.
Strange, I know. But true, I used to VOLUNTARILY go outside. And in a time when I wasn’t the most popular kid, I sought solitude. And that tree, at the far end of a field, was it.
It was strange to see it after all those years, it hadn’t changed in the least. Every branch was just at I remembered, and even though I had grown a couple feet since I was last there, it didn’t seem any smaller.
We sat and ate and talked. Zai loved it, it had been years since she had been on a picnic, and even longer since she had been to a forest. She had also wanted to see my place for awhile now, so it seemed like a good idea.
Afterwards, we took a walk…
I’ll spare you the misadventure of Zai stepping into a mud puddle with lace shoes on.
One of my favorite books ever, Dark Tower, often used something along the lines of, “…but that was before, the world had moved on since then.”
I’m not entirely sure I fully appreciated just how profound that statement was until Saturday.
My old neighbor’s house used to house a stable and a horse, next to a giant tree with a large swing. It was gone, replaced with a giant stump, and a small garage.
My old house had shed its old brown color and got a coat of white paint. Even the white paint was old and cracked, like the ill-kept concrete steps leading up to the porch. The wooden porch swing was gone, replaced with a bench seat taken from an old pickup truck. A large sign on the door told me the place was condemned, deemed ‘unfit for occupancy.’
I walked around to the side of the house and glimpsed an old woman the next house over. I recognized her from another world, where she kept up a nice house and a beautiful garden in her back yard. Her movement was now slow and hunched, and her backyard was nothing but grass and weeds, which seemed immaculate when compated to the overgrown forest of weeds that used to be my backyard. I considered saying hi, but I thought chances were very slim she would remember me.
The world had moved on, and she with it.
Afterwards, I drove around the old neighborhood a bit. About one in four houses were up for sale, and one in four were simply abandoned. There weren’t many people on the streets, and the few that were seemed to eye my passing vehicle suspiciously. Everything had an aged and decrepit look about it.
It had moved on.
I drove past my old school, which appeared so much smaller than I remember. The playground had been removed and rebuilt. The of equipment replaced with colorful and child-friendly activities. There were no swings. I notice that trend these days. Swings aren’t safe, apparently.
Just because I’ve hurt myself a couple times on them…
I drove by the field we had visited early. This time by the ‘official’ end, about a half-mile or more from the solitary tree at the far end. There used to be a baseball field where the little league teams would play. But it was gone, and only patchy bits of grass where the plates used to be are the only indication of what had once been there.
It had moved on.
So I left my old neighborhood, once again winding my way down the backroads trying to avoid the parade route. I took the exit onto the highway, and left my old home behind.
It didn’t really seem like my home anymore. Other than that one spot, my place. Other than that… I had moved on.
Zel-kun out.