Thursday, April 28, 2011


I left there because the lights were bright but they were never bright enough.

From the side of Monte Sano mountain, you could see them. The grid of Huntsville, laid out, north to south. The only place switched off was the Arsenal. That was the only darkness. That, and the fields just beyond the city, far in the distance.

I only saw those lights twice a year. Coming back from my Aunt's house, over the mountain, on Christmas Eves, when we'd just spent time in her Coke themed house and dug through stockings and played in the insulation in her attic and riding itchy, over the hill, everything was illuminated for seven hundred vertical feet until we were driving back in the mundane. The neighborhoods. Just wanting to make it to bed or Santa.

That put in nugget in my heart and in my eyes and the one thing I want is a view of a city and the sparkle of progress and the lumen and I want it all and I want it there when I close my eyes. I would close them and rub them and the city would come to life in the space between my lids and my brain.

And tonight, after the worst outbreak of tornado in over thirty years, the city is dark.

But it is burning in inside me. And I needed to get it out.

Sorry I've been away.