a sense of place

by underswansea

I can’t be sure of this place. It is the only place I’ve known. A guy I’ve known all my life came up to me today and said this valley does things to people. My brother is down and out. He blames his father, I loved my father, but maybe he is right. Who is to blame? My son was in an accident tonight. It was his fault but nobody was seriously hurt, thank goodness. He has done everything right, good grades, loves us, is mindful, tries and succeeds at everything he does. Is he doomed here? Regardless?

A good friend called me on Friday night. Some guy that owed him money broke into his house and tried hauling him down the stairs to kick his ass. I told him to call me the next time he comes around.

I will explain to him; the guy that owes the money doesn’t come knocking.

This valley has been turned on its side. We have become a bunch of hucksters trying to get every tourist to reach into their pocket for ten bucks, while everything turns to shit. The lake, the mountains, the roads.

Unless my brother can pull off a miracle he is dead.

I wonder if my father suffered like this.

My son goes away to school in a couple of weeks. I want him to get away.

I will never leave. Nothing touches me here.

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