Civilized urbanization: 'PROGRESS' in the name of man ... ? steals ? away memories immortalizes them; wrapping them in concrete their silent voices cry !out! in fluted pillars of steel ? cold,hard,metal;ShriekinG with inJustice. Asking humanity; WHY "don't they hear it anymore?"
Outside my house it smells like spring and soap, and hundreds of things I've come to expect and even more that I haven't. The grass is sparse and coarse and the dirt shows, cracked like parchment and waiting for the rain.
The yard turns into a murky puddle when it rains. The rain brings out that spring smell - that musty, earthy smell. Trudging through the puddles streaming across the sidewalk, I watch the little eddies my feet cause as I inhale deeply, breathing in the rich smell. The water swirls away from my shoes in little whirlpools as I make my way up the concrete stairs, a darker gray from the drenching.
I pause on the landing, looking at the rain-caused chaos in the yard below. Raindrops roll off my nose and splash unknowingly on my clothes as I become fixated, fascinated by my surroundings.
I blink, and my world comes into focus. I step slowly up the rest of the stairs and to our door, contemplating without purpose the border between wet and dry on our porch. I walk inside, dripping, wet, and cold - but smiling.
But I still don't understand the soap.