Saturday, August 16, 2008


The third full day here in Vermont, and am feeling emptied out: of thoughts, of a certain type of high energy, of much motivation.  Some might call this relaxing.  I feel as though someone has pulled a plug near my little toe, and I have drained through.  Or folded like a paperdoll version of myself.

I am struck, up here, by how time is collapsed into place.  To drive by both my high school and my college in the same afternoon within an hour.  To drive by roads I remember driving down with my grandmother when I was a little girl.  Getting from here to there in Vermont is by automobile and through most of these intersections and down most of these roads, my memories are of multiple versions of myself, all layered one upon the other like those cellophane inserts in old science textbooks that broke an organism or a machine into layers.  

Times are when you would rather leave some aspects of yourself behind.  

1 comment:

Macy Swain said...

Interesting post, Jeneva. I love that image of the cellophane inserts in textbooks -- something I'd forgotten all about but remember vividly. And it brings such light to your point. I'm quite taken here with the possibilities: how you experience emptiness yet describe a relationship to place that is so full -- in a way you don't wish it to be. Ironic. A connection to place doesn't always satisfy, eh?