I found myself back in my hometown again, dreaming of the house my father’s second wife lived in before she married him, a duplex, and the other half housing her sister’s family. There are many times that I end up at that house, rarely inside, but more often than not doing something with the yard. Last night it involved cutting the lawn while the house was being repainted maroon with white trim.
I usually find myself dreaming of my hometown, my home or the high school whenever I am stressed, or at a time of decision making. Why my mind settles there, I do not know. I am sure that Freud would have an opinion as to why I am never inside the house.
Two gentlemen were watching from the adjoining yard voicing lots of opinions on the grass cutter, me, and the painter. I remember magically see the house change to blue and white, immediately brightening the house and all around it. Color, or the lack of it, plays an important part of our lives.
I had spent part of the day trimming away the dead parts of plants in the garden. Perennials that will sprout again next spring and summer. When I look out the front window it is a different view now, not brown, but filled with ever green plants and shrubs which compete with all the vibrant colors of the spring and summer, always present but sometimes hidden.
Men voicing opinions are always around me. Lots of opinions, most of them I ignore, but some of them know me well, and those I keep with me. I am more inclined to listen to women, women who understand what is at the heart of a subject, if the soul might be wounded, if courage is needed.
So who or want is waiting for me to decide, to notice? How long will I gaze waiting for another sign? How might the universe choose to communicate?
Possibly by needing to replace a hard drive which temporarily forces me off the internet and back to quiet and the time needed to ponder.