13.8.08
H is for Hue.
The place of your birth is like Mecca, a siren drawing you home when you've been away too long. Like the beach to me, you can imagine yourself here a child living a carefree idyll. But we are the same, and we know it is just our imagination; like the Beach is for me, for you Hue is filled with the pain of the switch and the loneliness of neglect. Yet still you return, bodily every few years, spiritually every dawn. And this is where we differ: you are irresistibly compelled to revisit the past, while I have built an entire life running away from it.
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Hey! Me, too!
ReplyDeletemy, my, you are agreeable today.
ReplyDeleteI like the beach, but I don't like sand. At all.
ReplyDeleteI got no beef with sand; it washes off, after all.
ReplyDeleteI like standing in the sand and letting the water rush over my feet so they sink.
ReplyDeleteoh yeah? well i like making sandhorses.
ReplyDeleteMy college friends and I once spent an entire 3-day weekend building an elaborate castle on the beach of Lake McConahey in Nebraska. We won a prize and everything! And then, Dirk was killed in a car-wreck on the way back to school the following day, and I can't look at sand castles the same way ever since.
ReplyDeleteWow. Great story. Thanks Shari for that mood-lifter.
seriously. way to be a doggie downer, shari.
ReplyDeleteSorry. I'm unpredictable like that.
ReplyDelete