I needed to get out, so I took Clem and we went wandering.
Our apartment complex is the only thing on our road, and if you leave the complex and go walking it isn't long until you reach some good old fashioned beauty. There's a bridge and a creek, and this lovely spot that makes me think of Arthur and his Lady of the Lake. Clem and I parked our butts here for a bit, with her trotting around sniffing at stuff and me just chillin'. Thinkin'.
Thoughts of life, the way it changes so fluidly, filled my brain. I get such a kick out of how silently time passes and how next thing you know you're a completely different person than just a few years ago. I tend to get wistful and sentimental a lot, it's a huge part of my nature. I just...love everything, dammit, and as such I get overly emotional about stuff. Stuff like where I live now, the places I used to live, people I used to know and places I used to go. Stuff like the fact that everyone and everything I know now is only temporary in my life. When I let my brain go, I vacillate back and forth between sappy thoughts of how far I've come and how in love I am with everything around me (it is not unheard of for me to whisper out loud "I love this moment right now, every part of it)...and then back to being ridiculously sad about how transitory everything in life is and how there's no guarantee that any of the lovely people in my life will be there tomorrow.
Laying on my back, I entertained myself by pretending that the trees all knew I was there. I imagined that the tall and slender trees above me were aware of my presence, and felt that I loved them. I was in full daydream mode, pretending that years from now when I come back here (as a mother, a seasoned wife, an old lady) that the trees will remember me. It comforts me to think that there is some part of the places I go that knows I was there...as if I still belong to these places somewhat, even after I've moved on. As if when I go back to these places, the trees will say to each other "Oh I know her. She's a part of all of this."
The fact that these trees towering above me possess no sentience is also the reason why I take so many pictures of this live I lead. I know that when I return to my former homes and haunts, the only tie I have is my own memory. My own failing human memory. It's a bit of an irony that I fall so deeply in love with every little detail of my life and yet my brain is incapable of remembering them. I know in 30 years I won't be able to clearly recall the black iron street lamps that dot our streets, the ones that make me pretend I'm in Narnia every time I drive home. Someday we'll be out of our tiny one bedroom apartment, someday we'll have kids and a house and all that jazz, and I'm sure someday I'll crave to be back here. In our first home together, with our first pet together.
Under these trees, these beautiful and striking trees. They won't know me but I will know them.