Monday, October 31, 2011

Phantom Neighborhood

There are places that have being, yet do not seem to exist.

I have travelled far and near, experiencing light and dark, solid and unfirm, gone and extant. Yet, the place I happened upon one day still defies description.

It was sunny, just wispy clouds and the temperature was moderate. It was a mellow Spring day.

I was driving around hunting for yard sales. I'm a big advocate of them. You never know what treasures may lie underneath.

Sure enough, I noticed a poster with multicolored lettering:
'Neighborhood Yard Sale. All Weekend. A Little Bit of Everything, A Whole Lot for Little.'

I cruised onto the street and immediately noticed something. As mellow as the day was, it was as if I slipped into somewhere even more peaceful. I felt surrounded by arms that comforted.

There was a plethora of goods, everything from vintage clothes to books, pots and pans including dishware and some fascinating furniture pieces.

It was busy but not rushed as people perused the many articles. There seemed to be good natured haggling and spirited conversation.

I had my eye on a coffee table for my house, dark wood with a bottom shelf when I saw a station wagon pull up.

A young couple and their son, who looked to be about five, quietly walked up the steps to a small house just up a small hill. The boy carried a small box with a loose top. I overheard them chatting with the apparent homeowner.

'You must be Mr. and Mrs. Bennett. And this is Thomas', he smiled at the boy, who was a little self conscious and seemed preoccupied with the box he carried. 'I'm Max Parsley.' He nodded amiably at them.

'Sir here is the bird we found.' Thomas lifted the box for Max to take.

He gently held it and smiled as he looked in the top. 'This little fella seems mostly dazed. I'll take care of him, don't worry.'

Mr. Bennett said,'We think he got in a bird fight and got knocked out of his nest. Tommy was worried and we were told you helped injured animals.'

I wondered about that. Why not go to a vet who handled wild animals? Living in a city had made me regulation/license conscious.

'I see you noticed Max.'

I turned slightly and beheld a tall young woman. she had short dark brown hair and worecut off jeans with a cotton top just open at the front. She was squiring a large dog around, casually sauntering nearby. As I looked she stopped.

'Is he a vet?' I was curious and realized I might have appeared a little uptight. 'My Grandma used to heal the animals on her farm. Just wondered.'

She smiled taking me in, sizing me up with brown eyes that seemed to see through me.

'Oh, he teaches animal husbandry at the college. But his family has always tended animals' She whispered in mock conspiratorial tone,'He does this on the sly.' Her smile deepened and her dog merely shifted, waiting patiently.

'Well healing can take many forms. Far be it from me to put down such efforts.' I smiled back and before I said another word, she resumed her walk. The dog was huge, part Shepherd maybe and a real Heinz 57.

Big as the dog was, she had control and he didn't pull. They seemed in synch.

As she glided off, she anticipated me. 'He's part wolf. His name is Hrolf. I'm Ylva. We'll meet again'

She glided off, that bemused look as she seemed to circle me with her eyes.

Before I could answer, she was gone.

I shook my head and bought the coffee table. I loaded it into my truck and drove off.

As I did, once again I felt as if I was leaving a dreamscape. The area around almost spun as I got onto one of the main streets.

I tried to find the place again. I could not.

It left me to wonder what this girl meant about meeting again.

When the time came, I figured I'd find out.


teacher said...

Pallette for a portrait.

Anonymous said...

ur weird.

Mike H said...