Saturday, July 01, 2006

With Clay it's easy to let things slide... but don't.

This has nothing to do with Clay or anything much of anything in my real life. But it happened and I saw it so now somehow it's a part of me.

I don't know these people. All I know is that they've always kept their yard and home in shambles. Ten years ago I remember how they had a Charlie Brown christmas tree in the front. It was pathetic and sad. I wondered for the longest time why they kept it. It was bent way under another tree and so scrawny that it could have been removed quite easily, with hardly an effort. About a year ago it WAS removed and I remember finding myself missing it somehow. I know. Weird. But that's what gives weight to my sadness. Imagining them making that one cognitive effort to improve their landscape.

I wish I'd taken a picture of the house pre-yesterday because it was truly something to behold, but the opportunity has now escaped me. But it was the classic and proverbial eyesore... trust me... the yard, the house and all. Even though it somehow feels irreverent to be almost glad it's gone. Still, I can't imagine I'm the only one in the neighborhood who feels that way.

I've driven by this house every day of my life for the past ten years. I think it must have been at least that long ago that I was tempted to slip a little note into the mailbox that said.. "Do you have any idea how your lack of interest is affecting the ambiance???" or "Get a job!"... or something like that. I'm really glad now that I never did.

But I'll miss seeing the skateboard ramp in the driveway and the plethora of testosterone hanging out around the front yard at any given moment. I'll miss rolling my eyes at the redundancy of a lawnmower sitting in the middle of a lawn which hasn't been mowed for months and being so grateful that I am fortunate enough to live the next street over. I'll stop wondering how a garage door can hang on it's hinge askew for eight years straight or why anyone would opt to fill that garage with so much junk that their kazillion cars have to be parked on the street... the lawn... or wherever. Most of all, I will miss the American Flag window treatments.

I don't profess to understand other's priorities.

I have a clear vision of driving past it just yesterday and reminiscing about "Charlie Brown" and somewhat fondly remembering. That's what's weird. Last night I heard sirens. Today I now realize where they were headed. When I think about it really?... I don't know why I'm so surprised. In my mind I think I've always known that this house was an inferno waiting to happen.

So why am I feeling so affected by this? Perhaps I'm imagining what it would be like to experience the loss of everything. Even if everything wasn't anything I cared about or took the time to take care of. Still, just to know that I'd slept in there somewhere comfortably and peaceably at one time... or laid on the sofa, albiet sloshed, but watching whatever on TV, perhaps even AI at one time. Anyway... just rambling.

This morning it was just a shell of what it use to be, which really wasn't that much to begin with, yet somehow it's still really hard to look at. I didn't want to rubberneck too much while driving by but in a glance I could still see the torched remains of old glory. By this afternoon they pretty much had it all boarded up... a safety precaution I guess.

Tonight I checked my smoke alarms and found them to be defunct so I replaced the batteries. I don't check them as regularly as I should. I also made sure that all my most precious things were stored safely and in a place where I could readily grab them at a moments notice. I also swept my garage. I think that sometimes we get smacked awake by other's misfortunes.

I truly hope that there were no fatalities. I haven't heard. It happened about 8:00 PM on Friday night. So hopefully everybody was out bowling or playing bingo or something... Hopefully.

1 comment:

lakecat said...

Thats a frightening story. I too hope no one was home.

I'd better check my yard, haven't done much since the winter. I hate yard work.