aimee, I finished max tivoli. it was sad and beautiful, just like it was supposed to be. you were right. and I should have read it sooner.



I've been thinking about the house and virginia, and cait you can skip this if you want because you already know this.

I took a walk last night and realized the house is different now; it's not the place I fell in love with as a child. the place I loved had overgrown lilacs and gnarled crab-apple trees, ugly brown carpet and the kitchen step with my footprint and, a very long time ago, the old skylights that leaked onto the sugar dish whose lid I broke when I spun the lazy susan too fast with my three-year-old fervor. I won't miss the patio or the hot tub or the shiny plastic fence.

this hasn't been home for a while, since I lost the memories that went with middle school renovations, since my bedroom was given away. first semester, when I hated college, when I was miserable and needed somewhere familiar, I came home to be ushered to the couch. I needed somewhere stable, but I lived between suitcases, and, somehow, the house lost whatever made me want to stay forever. I'm ready to leave now, I'm waiting to go back to salem and then to plymouth and then, well, who knows. not virginia.

so for now I'll just keep my boxes packed, and dream of renoir on the walls. I'm chalking up my losses --the swing set my father built; the irises that topple down in an arch of purples; the living room ceiling with its swirls of plaster; the paths behind the barn where we've lost mittens, and kissed, and spied on the jehovah's witnesses-- but I'm making my peace.

ash @ 6:22 PM