Westhampton

There is a North, South, East and West version of the town I work in. I took a ride out to the West one yesterday. Into the hills. Small dairy farms. Old, red barns in varying degrees of collapse. Networks of tapped maple trees tied together with surgical tubing and several steaming sugar houses. Beautiful forested hills. Right next door and yet I'd never seen it before. 

Inside the house, my life had been frozen for years. I left things as they were in the wake of two phases of change some years apart. I let the dust settle down and cover everything over. I allowed rust to occur and mildew to run riot. I never invited anyone inside. I, myself, only slept and showered here. No one actually lived here.

Well, the time came to refinance the house. I needed a home inspection which required a human being to enter the premises. To make it bearable for me, I spent about 24 hours cleaning and throwing things away. I grouped together a pile of serviceable items that I never used but didn't want to waste. I thought I'd donate them to the Salvation Army. One of those items was a metal CD tower you gave me when you were conducting a similar purge of your own home years ago. 

It hurt somewhat to leave it there. I felt an urge to look back as I was driving away but remembered that's something you didn't do. Something about giving the CD tower away allowed me to acknowledge that I don't like you too. Maybe next year I'll donate the crockpot.

Without love, this is an empty house. A cold house. A hungry house. Without dust, I can see that clearly now.