Friday, June 20, 2008
Walk Home
Oh yes, I’ve had a few at the local. I declined my usual Steamwhistle and chose Grasshopper out of some sort of allegiance, some pledge to the future. You know, cuz we’re moving back to the prairies ‘n all. Well, eventually. It’s all up in the air these days. I honestly don’t know what’s going to happen. It's all making me very nervous.
Our local pub is Irish in style and tonight it feathered a boy band. And I mean that literally: boys, no older than ten. Or a short twelve. Actual kids in cute punk t-shirts belting classic rock through long, indie-rocker hair. And you know, they weren’t horrible.
When the show was over, Trev went with his editor-buddy to an improv show across the street. I wasn’t in the mood so I walked home alone. The air is nice, the most tolerable it’s been in weeks. Moist but cool. Just right for walking.
I decided to take the park route. It’s old, this neighbourhood park of ours. Old and heavy and green at this time of year, especially with all of the rain. About 30 teenagers had congregated under one of the biggest and most ancient maples, the one with picnic benches around its base. A cop car drove by very slowly. The teenagers didn’t even look up. They were talking about boxing gloves, from what I could gather. The police car drove on.
The houses in this neighbourhood are just as old as the park. Tall, brick and squished together under power lines and thick trees. Garret windows open to the night air, revealing art as thoughtfully chosen as the lighting. These are expensive houses. $700 K if your’re lucky. The people who live here are the kind who have the time and the money to make their kids into local rock stars.
I like to make fun of it. Still, I feel it. This neighbourhood has a way of making me question if I don’t belong here afterall.
Don’t tell Trevor. His brain will explode.
posted by Working From Home Today
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