9:52 p.m. - October 02, 2002
New curtains, eh?
Periodically I find myself standing outside the house in which I grew up, looking at the curve of the driveway and noting physical changes like marigolds instead of geraniums for no compelling or clear reason at all. I wonder what I look like, a guy standing across the street peering at a house, looking for something but nothing really, just looking. I don't know how I end up there and it is not a metaphor for being lost but a sincere puzzlement, why and how is it I find myself on that street today and like every other time, I'll park, look, stand, get back in the car, and drive off. Maybe I'm worried the house might not be there.
I'm chicken shit.
When I graduated college and had no where else to go, I went back to my hometown partly as an act of defiance against my habit of running, partly because I wanted a roof over my head. A few years later the only defiance is me still standing outside that house and it is truly a lonely feeling to think much yet nothing has changed.
