Seeping in

Memories indeed. I just spend who knows how long vacuuming water out of my grandmother's basement with a shop-vac. Until about, what, two months ago, I hadn't been out to the farm in years. When I got old enough and didn't have to go out there after school and such occasions as when my parents were at work I decided I wasn't going back out to the farm. Too many memories are tied to the farm/the house, in fact after my grandfather died in that house, I can't say I remember anything else happening there. It was all a huge part of my life growing up.

Because the back field sits higher than the house and I'm assuming there are also several cracks in the foundation, whenever it rains the basement takes on water. And simply because I am the only one in town with no life it's been decided that my job is to go out to the house after a good rain and suck up the water. Tonight was my first time doing it. I can't say I dreaded every moment of the task, cause that's not the case. Being in that house alone and not being able to remember what it looked like years before, but knowing that everything about it wasn't right, killed me. All the familiar smells were there, but I don't know, the house is dying, and as far as I'm concerned it has been since the day Papa died and the same with the family. Just as I don't want to watch my grandmother slowly fade away, I don't want to see that house the way it is, I don't want to be in it, near it anything. I almost started crying on the way home. I want to ransack the place, find anything and everything that will remind me of the past; the good times. Everything is falling down, decaying, cracking, leaking, aging...dying. The spirit is fading away. I guess I decided years ago that I was done with it all. Years ago I had intended on taking two rolls of film with me out to the farm, one color, one black and white. I was going to shoot pictures of all the things that were familiar to me, once in color and once in black and white, maybe an attempt to capture the essence of the place. I never got around to it. I'm sure I could go out there during some good weather and do it, but I don't know. I've always been the sort to like pictures of people rather than just places. After all, the people were the essence of the place. Huh, and now we all hate each other.

Growing up is the worst and best thing that can happen to a person. I know nothing stays the same (yes, I realize that's part of a Carly Simon song, the second I typed it I had it playing in my head) but I wish I'd fought a little harder with myself to not turn my back on that place, to not let go.

I'm not so much completely depressed about it, just mournful, somber like...please tell me that makes sense.

Some lyrics from the Foo Fighter's song "On the Mend" that seem to fit me:

One more day that I've survived
Another night alone
Pay no mind I'm doing fine
I'm breathing on my own

I'm here
And I'm on the mend
I'm here
And I'm on the mend my friend