Thursday, March 5, 2015


i'd come back from the future and was glad about it. this life was simple and clear and everything took a distant second place to growing season- which we were in the midst of now. i was muddy up to my elbows and over the tops of my wellies from plugging tomato seedlings into the wet, loamy soil near the shoreline. there would be no watering throughout the season because of the fresh water wicking through the thirsty tomato roots on its gravitational slip to the sea. i stood up after i had planted many rows, the falling sun behind me illuminated the tender leaves of my seedlings and highlighted the preciseness of my rows. i listened to the water birds conversing in the near distance and let a peaceful satisfaction wash over me. i headed toward the labyrinth of connected buildings that comprised our village and slipped out of my boots for the last few steps to the hose-bib. i laughed when i looked down at my feet- they were so muddy i realized i should have worked barefoot. i turned on the spigot and pulled the soft, clear tube of water from the end of the hose up my arms and over my knees and feet. i felt a thousand childhood summers pass through my memory and smiled. as i filled my boots for a final rinse, i looked up and saw a stranger walking toward me. as he moved toward me i could see from his gait that he was not from this time and my heart skipped a terrible beat. had i not gone back far enough? had he followed me? worse, had i left the portal open too long after my final departure allowing someone to slip in? 'hiiiiiiii!' he sang to me as he waved his arm above his head. he wore pastel 'preppy' clothes from the 1980's with the requisite coordinating tennis sweater tied over his shoulders. he held half-dead seedlings in his other arm and grinned as he said too loudly, 'i brought these for you!'. i did not respond with words but instead looked at him as though i could blink him away. as he spoke, i understood that i had not gone back far enough and he was the first wave of those who would bring 'gentrification' to this perfect place.

i thought of murder.


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