in december, on the last day of the year, i got to help someone move. her apartment kicked her out, just like our landlord did.
around our house are four roads: North, South, East, West.
North extends up to a hill, around which gray leafless trees and mist swallow it. i’d never traveled that road. banners announcing the name of another city wave by the trees.
East is a stretch whose beginning i’ve never seen and whose end is crumbling cars.
at the Laundry Express and a stop sign, South begins. the pothole roads to the left i know, but the right was a mystery.
and whatever could West be?
driving that day, I crossed North. mist blotted the silvery trees; i twisted my way up the narrow roads, praying i’d stay on them.
on the way back, i went down what i discovered was South. dotted with half-kept houses, dull, water pooling in the front yards. a street crossed into it, a street i could reach from my backyard. it connected North and South, so i realized: that was West!
and this all is a long and sentimental story to say: North, West, South and East connect around my house, forming a square.
(You’re probably wondering, what in the world does this mean?? Just wait. I’ll explain next week).
thoughts of a wanderer 