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< > May 2002

• Sat, May 25, 2002 12:41 AM

  2 weeks B.C.
  
  You’re two weeks away, buddy! Don’t worry, we’re ready.
  
  Mom’s been working really hard to set up a home for you. We’ve got everything decorated in wonderful greens and oranges…you’ll learn to love these colors, I promise.
  
  I’m falling in love with you and you’re not even here yet. I have visions of stroking your hair, not doing much, making an absolute mess of the kitchen and having a number of massive water balloon fights. I see times of tension that always end in peace. I see you – but I don’t know what you look like – but it doesn’t matter.
  
  You, me, some good music. Yeah.
  

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• Sun, May 12, 2002 12:25 AM

  (written at The Lodge At Skylonda, on our final pre-Kaya vacation)
  
  Somewhere down there, around the corner, past a bend, is where you’ll find it. Look for the mossy rock, watch for the trickling stream, observe the footprints of a handful of different mammals as they commute from one place to another…but don’t worry, you won’t miss it.
  
  It was built in the 20’s, or so the story goes, by and older gentleman who made the observation that civilization was moving faster while he was getting slower. So he headed to the woods, where nature ruled the clock, and things were just a bit more predictable. Didn’t have much, no…but he didn’t need much, either. He’d sit for hours on his stoop, whittling a stick or watching the fall undress the trees. Sometimes he’d talk to them, too.
  
  The trees told him of the many human beings, just like himself, that had been through these parts in the last few hundred years.
  
  I came down the path about 35 years after the man was gone. A new hotel had gone up at the top of the hill, and there was a recommended fitness walk for all us city-dwellers to stretch our thighs and empty our brains. Didn’t think much of the building…it had a dangerous list to it that kept me from exploring the insides…not that there was much to this one-room building anyway. After a quick nosing around, I went to leave.
  
  But the trees wanted to know where I had come from, and why I was there. Most importantly, they wanted to know what had happened to their friend, the man.
  
  Today, you can make out the foundation underneath the forest carpet, but just barely. The trees, however, are still there. And they’re always around to talk if you want.
  

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