I used to look at the pictures and sigh.
That which had been another home for over 20 years still called to me.
Time slowly, but surely, took away the bonds that tied me to that land, but there were still the memories.
And the pictures.
And both were rich in meaning, in sentiment.
But now, it's different.
The images which filled me with such yearning have become distant.
I know that it hasn't changed. It is I that have changed.,
It's like having an ex-girlfriend. The cuts still remain even after a period of time. They may bleed a little. And viewing pictures of her may wash the mind with want, with sadness.
However, when enough time has passed, that which draws to her becomes weaker.
The weakening brings about new waves of desire now and then as the realization grows that moving on has taken place whether wanted or not.
And now, many years later, the sight of her on Facebook or yearbooks or snapshots doesn't stir any more. There are the memories, but they have become cold. Sterile.
This severing should have come as no surprise.
I have been through it before. Many times.
But even though I own a piece of that distant land, it still remains distant.
Perhaps even more now than ever.
Why the lot purchase?
Oh, there were thoughts of a retirement home. There was the dream of forever holding onto a piece of that which was a part of our lives for so long.
Now, it's just become about the investment, I suppose. There's no other reason to keep those two acres.
I have written many things about this. Those things, whether poems, essays or stories, have been recorded in book form so I have words as well as the pictures.
But each writing drained a little of the attachment from me. Like a weed it would grow back, often as strong as before. However, if you hack away at a weed over time it will stop trying to grow.
It will die.
Experiences in life are weeds.
Hack away at them and eventually they will die.
And all that will be left are pictures, words. Distant memories.
That is one of the sum totals of life.
