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I heard a dog barking, moving up the nearby main road. Every few seconds it would bark again, having moved a couple of hundred feet north. It was probably riding in the back of a pickup truck, as so many dogs do in these parts, or maybe it was hanging its head from the window of a car, but either way it found plenty to bark at in the passing world. I listened to it until it moved out of earshot, somewhere up where the road tops the long hill and then dips to bend along the canyon. The dog found the world more fascinating than I find it today.
I've been remembering how on Sundays the neighborhood store was closed and how, if we didn't go away somewhere that day, I always felt a sense of confinement as a result of not having the store available. Sometimes I would walk up the hill and look at he deserted store and think about the soft drinks sitting in the cooler and the ice cream and Popsicles in the freezer, all trapped behind that locked door. For some reason I never planned ahead when I was a kid. I could have bought something for Sunday easily enough the day before. But then, had I done that, I think I'd have still missed the act of going into the store and buying something, just the way I missed seeing the local bus pass by on Sundays even though I probably wouldn't have used it even had it been running. It was the ritual I missed, and the familiarity. The fact is I never much liked Sundays. I don't like days when things shut down. I've always liked the weekends, but Sundays only became tolerable to me when they became more like Saturdays, with most of the stores open.
I was never much of a fan of holidays either. They were a disruption of the pattern. I didn't mind getting a day off of school, but I was displeased by the fact that they were more like Sundays than like Saturdays. What I most recall is how isolated I felt on those days. For some reason today feels like that.
Know what? I have no idea WTF I'm blathering about right now. I couldn't find anything interesting for dinner so I just had some peanut butter on crackers and to make it tolerable I had an extra bottle of beer, and then another extra bottle of beer. (Sierra Nevada Summerfest is, by the way, a very tasty lager and I wish they made it year round.) Anyway, I'm buzzed and therefore make no sense. Ignore the preceding.
Oh, this, right?
( Sunday Verse )
I've been remembering how on Sundays the neighborhood store was closed and how, if we didn't go away somewhere that day, I always felt a sense of confinement as a result of not having the store available. Sometimes I would walk up the hill and look at he deserted store and think about the soft drinks sitting in the cooler and the ice cream and Popsicles in the freezer, all trapped behind that locked door. For some reason I never planned ahead when I was a kid. I could have bought something for Sunday easily enough the day before. But then, had I done that, I think I'd have still missed the act of going into the store and buying something, just the way I missed seeing the local bus pass by on Sundays even though I probably wouldn't have used it even had it been running. It was the ritual I missed, and the familiarity. The fact is I never much liked Sundays. I don't like days when things shut down. I've always liked the weekends, but Sundays only became tolerable to me when they became more like Saturdays, with most of the stores open.
I was never much of a fan of holidays either. They were a disruption of the pattern. I didn't mind getting a day off of school, but I was displeased by the fact that they were more like Sundays than like Saturdays. What I most recall is how isolated I felt on those days. For some reason today feels like that.
Know what? I have no idea WTF I'm blathering about right now. I couldn't find anything interesting for dinner so I just had some peanut butter on crackers and to make it tolerable I had an extra bottle of beer, and then another extra bottle of beer. (Sierra Nevada Summerfest is, by the way, a very tasty lager and I wish they made it year round.) Anyway, I'm buzzed and therefore make no sense. Ignore the preceding.
Oh, this, right?
( Sunday Verse )
