We sold our house a year ago.
As we began to look for alternative housing, I received a call from an old friend.
He was leaving our fair country on assignment with his company,
And needed house-minders.
Needless to say, Joe and I jumped at the opportunity.
For the past year, we have been living in a palatial estate.
Caring for personal belongings, keeping things watered.
Like a modern-day Jed and Granny in Beverly Hills.
Recently, my friend announced that his assignment was ending.
It was time for Joe and I to head for a new campsite.
Which we did, a few weeks ago.
Packed up our things again, loaded up the truck.
I can still hear ol' Earl Scruggs as I recount the event.
"Kin folks say, 'Jed, move away from there'!"
Getting our things out of storage again, much of it long-ago ensconced
Before we had left for our last overseas posting.
Packed up the truck,
Threw a rope over our tucked away lives in back
Fired up the engine
And moved on.
As we re-settled in the new place
Out again came those same old boxes.
Spilling their contents as we scrambled to organize
The thoughts, the feelings, the settings
Of so much that lies in there
Seems so recent now, much of it
Like it just happened
Only walking distance away
Those pictures of our single-digit aged kids
The books that I treasured
The music
The keepsakes
Toothless, funny cowlicks, overly applied hair gel
Robert Bly prose and Jeff Beck records
Scrawlings in other languages long forgotten
Little bottles of things I dare not drink
Re-assembled in this new place
Scaled down, cleaned up, and dusted off
Back into a new frame, a bookshelf over there
A newfangled iPod
Sibling Society and Osaka-made sake glasses
...."and tonight I'll be staying here with you"
It all just happened, didn't it?
Walking distance away.
Getting familiar with the neighborhood now.
Meeting the locals in the area, many of which are terrific
Additions to the melting pot of this life
So few who look, act, dress, or sound
Like this Expat.
Oh, this is going to be good, I think.
Should be great fodder for later postings.
And better yet, what's that I see down the block?
Why, a Mexican cantina!
With outdoor seating, no less!
I can almost see it from our little place here.
Crooking it's little dedo in my general direction
Oye como va, gringo?
As the Texas sun begins to do it's work.
Before long, I'll slip on the sandals
Wade through the bluebonnets that spring up everywhere around here
Baggy shorts, an old floppy shirt
Dangling wires coming from my ears
He walks a little funny, doesn't he?
I can almost hear that music from here
Sporting a scar or two, some unseen
Nevertheless, making his way
Still
Heading, with all those things in his head
His memory
His heart
To where those treasures can once again be enjoyed.
Once again, from this little apartment.
Flipping the switch to "shuffle" on this device now lost in my pocket
A passing glance at what hangs from the wall now
Those dog-eared books again on the nightstand.
Forgive me, it's getting late.
I can hear the mariachis tuning up down the street.
Even above the whiny solos of "Sugar Cane"
Pounding in my head.
Slip down the little walkway
Say hello to those who probably greet in other words
Walk by trash bags with refuse that is as foreign
As the consumer who packed it
What a great contrast
Past and present
So much right here in front of me
Yet so much ahead
It almost seems as if it was all yesterday
Yet tomorrow seems just as close
As the sound of the blender
And light spray of the sprinklers
In the patio over there
Where these treasures will congregate again
Inside and around this crinkly head
And, knowing that so much of life
Past, present, and future
Is merely
Walking distance away.
