Summer in Sun City
Somedays I look at each tree as if it has a distinct personality amid the dense makeup of its forest home.
It was easier with the palms that half-year we spent in Phoenix together, taking walks around the neighborhood looking for coyotes, quail, and fighter pilots overhead. Perhaps it was a result of the landscape being so foreign to my North-Eastern sensibilities that the palm trees seemed to scream for attention. Their fronds stood in the still air like newly-coiffed hairstyles set upon middle-aged trunks. Every so often a jackrabbit would grace the scene, twitching with attentiveness but instinctively aware that we (even your dog) posed no threat to his desert domicile.
It’s easy to get trapped in nostalgia, but these memories I know are time and space specific. Much has changed since those sunny days. External forces eliminate certain futures but cannot erase that past self. The one who did not see risk as others did.