i remember..
the family crowded into my parents unfinished master bathroom. the jacuzzi tub still hadn't been closed in. it was dark, the lights had not been wired. because the small backyard ran up against a steep 20 ft slope of exposed rock complete with miles of mature forest on top; the new top floor extension was the only place you could see the moon above the trees without running out of the house and into the street. i must have been no older then 8, we all were up past our bed times, running out into the street was not an option. so i remember the entire family (only eight at the time) standing in a tub, the skeleton of a house around us. eight faces squished against a window looking out into the blackness of the night. my father held my youngest sister. my older siblings thought it would be amusing to scare me. my brother said his teacher told him that if i looked at it, i would go blind. my sister said if i touched the pink stuff around the window (uncovered insulation), i would get glass in my hand. i remember peering over the windows ledge.. high into the sky to see the silhouette of evergreens reaching up into the night. it was as if the moon's glow had been swept way and fell as a dusting on the earth. creating crowns upon the trees' summits where if landed. i remember someone pushing against me to get closer to the window.
skip to now, my first lunar eclipse since..
again, i'm in the top floor of a building. but this one is not the house i grew up in. i'm surrounded by technologies. however rather than rafters and support beams it's a room lined with G5 iMac's and scanners. and although a window sits in front of me this one can't be open and rather than a sea of trees; i see, a sea of text. and no one is here to stop me, from running out into the street. and no one is near to calm my fear, of all the time i've lost. and my parent's voice is distant so i can’t hear them say, "one more minute and off to bed". i'm watching the sky turn blacker than i have seen in years. and i can't re-find that urge to stand outside.
there's a space up here atop the architecture and planning building where the existing windows were removed when the studios were added. a 6 ft deep skylight now exists between the extension and the building. if i roll back in my chair and rest my head on the desk i can watch the moon disappearing from the sky. it's as if someone decided their sick of its light, tired of life, and tonight were all going to see black.
i want to go back.
back to bedtimes. back to families. back to the woods. and back to the basics.
how are life and love so overwhelming?
tell me that it hurts, again.
remind me i'll go blind.
nathan.
skip to now, my first lunar eclipse since..
again, i'm in the top floor of a building. but this one is not the house i grew up in. i'm surrounded by technologies. however rather than rafters and support beams it's a room lined with G5 iMac's and scanners. and although a window sits in front of me this one can't be open and rather than a sea of trees; i see, a sea of text. and no one is here to stop me, from running out into the street. and no one is near to calm my fear, of all the time i've lost. and my parent's voice is distant so i can’t hear them say, "one more minute and off to bed". i'm watching the sky turn blacker than i have seen in years. and i can't re-find that urge to stand outside.
there's a space up here atop the architecture and planning building where the existing windows were removed when the studios were added. a 6 ft deep skylight now exists between the extension and the building. if i roll back in my chair and rest my head on the desk i can watch the moon disappearing from the sky. it's as if someone decided their sick of its light, tired of life, and tonight were all going to see black.
i want to go back.
back to bedtimes. back to families. back to the woods. and back to the basics.
how are life and love so overwhelming?
tell me that it hurts, again.
remind me i'll go blind.
nathan.
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