A simple one-liner from Steve’s blog has me thinking: "The days move on and things just grow more and more bizarre." And though he is referring to something else of much greater import, it has me reflecting on my own current state in life.
The other day I sat in judge’s chambers and names bandied about that were part of my past. Referred to G, who is a real estate attorney, and whom I remember from high school as dating my next door neighbor, his brother was in my class and ran around one Easter morning shouting "I have arisen!" Or to J, an appraiser who lived one house up from my dad’s but moved away and who is now interested in returning and buying one of the lots below the house.
On Monday I have an appointment to meet M at the house for a real estate listing. She was a year ahead of me in high school, and had a twin sister named R who broke up with T just before I started dating him and he took me to the junior prom. M also married A, whom my oldest sister dated once or twice, and who was the funeral director who laid out most of my family except my mom and dad. A died shortly after my mother, and is buried right behind her at St. Mike’s.
As I visit this town, a town that is not that small and was in fact known as the largest "town" not designated as a city in the state, I come to glimpses of the past brought in by people I have known who, like I, have a completely separate present yet carry with them moments of themselves wherein we met and meet again. Like Jose Arcadio, I have fled and yet the past returns in fact and memory.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology