behindtheax

homesick

I let the dogs out early this morning and stood for a little while at the back door to watch them run circles around the old shed and the pear tree. Our poor yard. It looked less damaged when there was a little winter on it.
A mourning dove sat on the telephone wire, his grey breast silken with sunlight, flashes of white on his tail. I know we are not quite to the end of it yet but it feels pretty much over. Winter, this year, never truly settled in anyway. Greg is off to New York tomorrow. Staying at a friend’s place in SoHo. His parents are arriving here in two weeks. I need to spring clean. I’m restless now. I have this urge to get on the train, go back east for a week – walk the streets of my home town – eat sugar donuts with hot tea – sit on the porch steps of my childhood home until the wood warms beneath me and snowmelt runs in little rivulets down the driveway. I want to find Sandy. Want to bury my hands in the thick coarse manes of the ponies. Look down at my father’s work boots. Hear the rattle of the tractor’s motor. I am restless for what was. For all the things this city fades.

posted by mary j. @ 10:05 AM