proximity

I got up early this morning and went for a walk. It's all I could think about last night. At one point, I became consumed with the idea of getting as close as I could to my parent's house without them seeing me. The possibilities of the confrontation were too great and I've been trying to remind myself that this trip wasn't about them. But I wanted to see the house--to see the place. Even if they didn't seem concerned with having me in their life, I wanted to remind myself that it was a place I knew and I lived.

The morning was quiet, breezy and cool and I imagined waking up with my windows open. I took photos as I walked up the street and got closer to the dead end. I situated myself behind a tree that blocked their window. I walked past their neighbor's crappy 25 year old fence and was glad there wasn't the vicious black lab snarling at me anymore. I took a photo. I stared. For a little bit, I got caught up in a relaxing, reflective moment where I thought what it would be like to be in that house without anyone else. I saw that their living room light was on and figured they were drinking coffee and reading the paper. I stood there like a stalker.

Then I saw the front door open slightly and suddenly felt like a criminal. I crossed the street, pulled up my hood to cover my hair--a dead giveaway--and walked fast back the way I came, my heart racing the whole time.

I prepared myself for a hand on my shoulder but knew it would never happen. Even if they thought they saw me, I know they wouldn't investigate to see.

I walked back to the hotel, not seeing any of the things I saw on the walk over. I came all this way--82.84 miles--and came right to the edge of where I wanted to be. It's just what I had to do.