A place of childhood memories, painted in blue skies and sandy shores and salty waters. After just an evening in this place now, tonight, I see it all in a new way. The way a person that lives here sees it. And my life in Stud has given me that.
I walked down Main Street and then along the street running parallel to the tracks, parallel to the water. I walked east up into the neighborhoods with the sun lowering behind my back.
A group of young men played soccer in the green field while three girls cheered them on. Across the street, as I walked down the sidewalk, I caught a glimpse of a girl in cowboy boots between trees. And then again between other trees. And others. Each snap of an image pasted together to form a group of people line dancing and then the country twang hit my ears. Who are they and what are they dancing for? Fun I hope.
I wanted to ask the traveling circus if I could join their group of tents and rvs set out about the field next to their outdoor performance arena. The arena resembles an old baseball stadium from the seventies, with wooden stands. I didn’t do it. I’ll never be a journalist, will I?
Now I stare out my bedroom bubble window. It looks west. Out to the fading orange sky. People talk in the room just next to me. Their voices carry out their open windows and into mine. Am I afraid or content? Will this parking spot be alright for the night? Does anyone know I’m here? I hope not.