When I was a kid, we lived in a valley on a very quiet dirt road. We were one of maybe a dozen year around residents, the only family with kids for many years. We kept ourselves entertained.
I remember that one of the things we used to do was scale the hills that had been clear cut for the power lines. We scampered up and down those hills like goats.
I remember being a child and gazing from the top of hill, where you could see beyond, one hill rolling into another. You could hear the noon whistle blowing for the refinery workers, but the town itself was tucked away in a much larger valley of its own. We did not often go into town as kids.
I remember just sitting there in the hot summer sun and longing, just longing to be someplace else, doing something different, waiting for the breeze to carry a random sound from a place that I could not see. There was always that longing. I don't know where it came from, but I remember that restless longing before I was even in school.
Today, I live in that town that I could not see as a child. I listen to the first thunderstorm of the season, watching the rain pour down, and in a lull, that noon whistle blows just as it always does. I am eating a salad and marveling that now I can do what I want. See what I want. Go where I want.
This post has absolutely no point. It is merely a wonderous sort of acknowledgement of change, of years gone.
I am a very lucky person.
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