This week’s Write On Wednesday Prompt:
“The loss of a place isn’t really so different from the loss of a person. Both disappear without permission, leaving the self diminished, in need of testimony and evidence.” Bridge of Sighs, Richard Russo
Write about a place you’ve lost….
Wonderfully strange and exciting, those first days and years of love are like crossing another country, one whose customs are foreign, whose flavors are intense, whose ways are altogether unexpected. Every part of you tingles with anticipation -what marvelous new sight will appear before your eyes? What soft new breeze will touch your skin? What pungent aroma will fill your nostrils? What fiery touch grasp your skin?
And the object of your affection begins to appear differently before your eyes. You devour guidebooks, hoping to soak up all the information you can…favorite songs and colors, preferred foods, morning or evening, fast or slow dancing…how can you best accomodate yourself to this new and beloved place, for, lost in desire, you’ll do anything to belong, to become a citizen of this new world of love.
So you settle in to your new home, this land built by love, and dwell there as days become months become years become decades. You barely notice the landscape changing around you, when the lustre of architecture fades, the gilding begins to tarnish. Occasionally, you’re startled by a missing step, cracks in the foundation that were never there before, huge spider webs and dust bunnies that speak of decay. You hurry to get paint, polish, and begin to scrub furiously, peering intently for a small spot of original glory.
Exhausted, you finally accept the inevitable.
For no one can be a newcomer forever and each place on this earth is subject to change, every country, whether on the map or in our hearts, grows old, and can be lost.