someday you’ll see me floating in the sunshine

Never really thought I’d say this, but on days like today¹, I really miss home.

And by home I mean the two homes that I spent most of my time in: My grandmother’s house in New Jersey and my mom’s house in Pennsylvania. And by home I mean their backyards.

My grandmother’s house is located in old-time suburbia. All of the houses are small ranches, the streets are tree-lined, and the residents are still mostly the people that built their houses there in the 50s and 60s. My grandmother’s backyard is a decent size. Her grass is the thickest and richest I’ve ever walked on. The pool is a perfect size for child splish splash or floating around on a raft for a few hours. I remember so many lazy days spent in the pool on a raft, falling asleep to lawnmowers a few yards over or Goldie, our neighbor’s dog, barking or rolling around in the grass. So fucking peaceful,  holy hell. I used to spend almost everyday over there and now that I’m getting through college and taking classes every summer, I maybe get over there twice a year? So sad.

My mother’s house is in a small development of newly built houses. Our  house is the best because it’s built in front of a large mass of tall, elderly trees whose branches and leaves reach out to touch each other, canopying just enough spots to give you shade when you’re hot, or to let golden warmth in when you’re cold. It’s completely secluded and closed off from the other houses. A private haven. The pool is huge, and, would probably get more usage if it didn’t have bugs in it all the time. On sunny days, when the alcoholic stepfather, and controlling combative mother were at work, I’d lay out in my bikini on the deck, switching on the outside stereo, listening to love songs from the 40s. It’s my best memory of home. So peaceful and relaxing. After dosing off, I’d wake up hours later, drained of moisture, sun-kissed and bleary-eyed. After a quick dip in the pool, I’d be ready to start over from the beginning – repeating the cycle until the sun went down. It was a magical time. I mean, right? Aren’t trees enchanted?² I’m such a whore for a good sun-trickled blanket of green leaves carrying the breeze under my neck. It’s almost musical. And is right up there with summer nights on the boardwalk or watching fireworks from the beach.

But, alas, here in the city, I don’t have a backyard. I live in a dope neighborhood, no doubt, but no towering trees or refreshing private pools. My lovely girlfriend has a backyard at her place, but every house is so close together, I’d never feel comfortable stripping down to catch some rays. I’m not complaining, because you couldn’t PAY ME to live at home again, but on days when the sun’s warmth reaches me through a bus window, or I hear oldies drifting out from a car’s stereo, I miss it.

Drift with me:

¹Today, as it turns out, was much more lamb and whole lot less lion. But it’s my blog and I don’t feel bad about being ragey!

²I don’t hug trees.

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~ by angiesyounglover on March 31, 2009.

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