Home for a Visit.

I know, intellectually at least, that the place I grew up ranges from rather pretty to striking. I don't get home to visit my parents very often--no motor vehicle to call my own--so nowadays, it sometimes takes my girlfriend to point out the beauty of the place.

I guess I take it for granted. The limestone bluffs that face the main road almost all the way south through the county, the little weathered sheds and shacks all along the road. It ranges from picturesque to a great place to shoot a horror movie, but I don't really realize it much. All the way home, I'm just thinking about all the catching up there is to do--sisters, brother, parents, cousins, niece, grandmothers--it's almost always to much to do in the limited time we usually have on our visits. I think about what I'll talk to my dad about--computers, music, the Blues (a cousin of mine has taken to calling them The Note exclusively). I bring my new computer along, and I know I'll talk to my brother-in-law about World of Warcraft and my latest and greatest achievements. I even notice and think about how much flooding has happened recently, and how high the river is. I just don't seem to see all the cool stuff around.

Spring-flowering trees, pink-white against everything else in a bright-green and brown. My girlfriend points this out, and starts talking about what they must be. I have no clue, but concede that they are pretty. She asks if all that water along the road is actually part of a river--I assure her that it is really supposed to be, that the flooding isn't completely insane yet. Last time down, she really counted the locations she thought would be good shots for horror movies--the sort that remind you why H. P. Lovecraft thought the countryside had it's own special dread. She's right, I could imagine all sorts of devilish things happening in and around these greyed, leaning sheds. I point out matter-of-factly that there are deer near the road at just the same time as she gasps and brakes. She sees the random waterfowl that I can't place.

Why can't I have the same sense of wonder here? She grew up in a rural place, too--my "homeland" has more in the way of terrain, but it's still boonies. People of nearby Missouri are always driving (annoyingly slowly) through, seeing the sights.

I'm going to try to play a game with my self one the way home, up through the county. I'm going to try to see all the neat, beautiful, and striking stuff. I'm going to try to propose new horror movie locations, point out the interesting flora and fauna.

I'm going to forget that I know it all, and try to discover as much as possible. And I'm going to win at "My Cows."

~j