Nostalgic Tiny Towns By Lex Chapou Tough Lives
Nostalgic Tiny Towns By Lex Chapou Tough Lives

Nostalgic Tiny Towns

By: Lex Chapou

It literally took me somewhere in the range of 4 to 8 seconds to suddenly feel deep down in the pit of my stomach that what I was doing was the absolute worst possible idea. It was the butterfly numbing sensation of crawling maggots and gentle soft tickling wings on the lining of my stomach. It was enough to make me gag visibly. I have no clue as to why I ever imagine that it could be anything other than this. Could have been for old-time sake, but I’m not really sure why I allow these swells to guide my heart when really my mind always knows better. I had this ugly sensation, like the pricking at my skin after poison ivy oils got all over me. But just like this sensation, I still wander in the forest without looking around me carefully enough. You see it had been at least 8 months since I left my old house and friends, and here I was inside this isolated self-loathing moment. I tossed on this heavy coat and chose to relish in the close stifling environment. But it was dark, and I felt alone so I was happy.

 

Empty words fell at my ears about being able to move back; these were the words of my sister. And she was dead wrong. I mean she was saying this even before we started packing. I used to put up a shield, and just let her lab and go on and on about this, but really I have given up. I let her talk still, but I don’t hear her anymore just goes in one ear and out the other. I’d stare off into the distance, or pick up my nails. I have discovered in our living room, that the crack looked a little bit like my old bunny. My family would never understand anyway. This time I was staring at the wood pattern on some ancient table. my mother must have picked it up at some god-forsaken flea market this was me doing. It is sitting in almost the indications of the last rickety and table that we used to have. The last time we went through this I would try to find my old coffee rings Staind into the wood. But that slate has been wiped clean. It used to look like some National Geographic shot taken with a drone, or perhaps the Grand Canyon wall striations of different soils and deposits over the eons.This one seemed to have some child’s listless drawings deeply etched into a heavy gouge. I let my mind wander and wondering what caused that scratch.

 

The soft words were gently encroaching on my made up imagination. Something about me being happy if I was back. I have no clue as to why her brain seemed that I was not anything other than satisfied by where I was. I could certainly be happy. Maybe I was misunderstanding her, but my mind went there anyways. I let it, I enjoyed letting it Meander to and fro. it made no difference. I was too occupied with that insane scratch, at this point I had assumed that it happened from some domestic dispute, where the woman threw a really heavy metal Vaz that was filled with her grandfather’s ashes. But she was still talking. It was like her words just floated off of her lips and danced around in the sunlight that was filtering through the dust that hung in the room. These words we’re not ones with intention, they were not words that had Direction, they certainly did not have meaning to me. I watched the words come tumbling from her mouth hanging on the edge of her bottom lip for dear life. They had no interest in entering the world. But when they did they were like puffs of winter  breath. Instantly heading to warm air  and freezing into little clouds of condensation.

I let those words hang a bit and then drop to the weathered wood and shatter. I had walked out of the room. she was still speaking to me from the distance but I paid her no mind and worked my way through the house. The smells we’re slightly similar, but there was something different about them. It was sort of the mixture of my old puppy, wood, my dad’s morning coffee, and various things that my family members tossed to the side women enter the house. See where some odors that I never really was able to place, and of course my imagination ran wild and assume that there were certain things in hidden under the floorboards or patch under the plaster of the walls.As I climb the stairs there was a momentary calm.  kind of like right when a baby falls asleep and their eyelids slowly droop and they stare off into the distance that type of calm. It was kind of like something used to be there, but wasn’t there anymore. Like something that slowly ebs away with time.Just a slowly fading past. I rather enjoyed this ephemeral sense as it allowed my imagination to run just a little more Wild. There was just something about that son that was soft and golden and the peaceful dust Motes that just danced around in the streaming Sun That Peak right through the horizontal blinds creating Shadows that dance throughout the day as a reminder of my prisoners plight.  

I nudged open the door to my room, Well it wasn’t exactly my room anymore. But it certainly felt that way sometimes. I knew where everything was, my eyes instantly flicked towards the faded shapes where my old art hung on the wall, my Achievements, my medals, and a couple other knick knacks that triggered mostly decent memories. Such as my 8th grade trip to Washington. I had a vial hanging on the wall, it was empty but used to contain shredded money. The money reminded me of our lack of money so I poured it out. My hamster used it as bedding For a half a year. I spotted the hole in the drywall that was made by an over-excited friend of mine, it used to be covered perfectly in hiding. And now it’s simply stared back at me. I’m pretty sure that mice used it as a doorway into their world. There are many world. There were old of wires, cobwebs, and elevators as they ran along two by fours that connected the very explorers of our home.

 

I was Awash with a sudden overwhelming sense of memories. No real reason, this happened often I have come to accept it and understand that this is generally when I have my epiphanies. I used to fight it and just posted through life, I rather enjoyed when they showed up but never knew in what direction it would save me. It was a little bit about that secretive halfway that was preordained for me. it took me a very long time to accept that. I still kind of fight at once in awhile. However this time I allowed that empty weight the change from sickness as it reminded me that I didn’t eat anything. It was definitely hard to pinpoint and not based on any real one particular thing. As hard as it is to describe it’s almost as if someone in their seventies with very difficult Recollections opens up a memory box and it suddenly Awash with the faces of their old friends, their child who passed away, their wives and mothers and picnics and birthday party. That sort of rough Handling wave of emotion that  Knocks you right upside the head and makes you spin.

 

I left my home in a rush that was a little bit overwhelming and it was not being pinpointed has any Guiding Light. Perhaps I was just hungry, I wasn’t going to eat anything now though. I shuffled up the hill, and through a lane to a spot that I generally call my own. How course it certainly wasn’t my own but boy did I feel that way. I cultivated it like it was a small cherished part of myself. It was something that I spent a lot of time in when my mind turned over and over eventually dropping into the pit of my stomach and spinning like it was now. I knew what every type of grass look like that lived under that tree on the top of the hill. I knew which flowers is dropped into the soil, germinated sprouted but never survive because they were pushed out by some other larger faster weed.This was an area that allowed my tiny little body feel like we could get a grasp on this larger universe that we were floating in. That’s really all we word is an entire universe floating on some just mode in an entirely secondary Universe. For the most part we were just spot in something else’s today. An insignificant spot. His tiny tree was at the top of the hill, that overlooked the small town, the Vista was huge and far. I can see all the way to the smokestacks forward Towns over. We of course never went there. Most days were clear and I can see miles and miles of chorus. Today was one of those extremely hot spring bright and sunny days it was one of those days that instilled a little bit of energy in my body and made me move, maybe feel, maybe link up with the world in a way that was different attention through looking at something in my mundane life.

 

Kicking out a few stones and watching them rolled for the edge of the road into the Gully where water rushed in the winter time. My mind wandered as I imagined in my head some of my past and some of my future. Of course I imagined  Stephanie. she always seemed to creep up into my stories but there was a peculiar T about Stephanie. It was just a little bit odd and interesting that my memories were always Half Baked with heart. It was almost like I didn’t want to go somewhere that I probably needed to go. Of course my memory is consisted of all the times that we lay under that huge parking free and watch through the filtered leaves at the clouds as they form shapes in the sky and tracked the sun. Occasionally we would be up there at night and watch Stars trying to name them, when we fail we would make something up that of course sounded right. Something along the lines of Stephanie’s belt For the Dippity Dipper. We would talk, sometimes we talked about our chance in the universe and about how odd it was that we met so high up in the forest on the top of this hill underneath this tree. I would fill her in on my life. My Explorations and my hardship and my family and my aspirations. She listened to it all with a quiet calmness simply nodding and agreeing or nodding and pointing me in the right direction. She was sweet and I loved it. He would have conversations about what I cooked for a new pie recipe that I learned and sometimes I would talk about skinny dipping around the second Bend of the river where the waters slow down.

 

Cut for the most part while I walked and relished in my memories these half-baked ones came about because there’s a sort of finality with Stephanie that I never could achieve. My brain did not want to imagine the two of us living a life forever. It could not imagine us joining up and taking on the challengers of a standard life. It was just something about that where although I wanted it it wouldn’t give it to me and I’m sure my mind had a reason for it beyond the regular Romantix. it was a regular old Romeo and Juliet situation. It just did not feel like the right time so I left those memories hanging. Just like the words that come bold out of that Mouse and hung on to the glistening wet list. just passed page. An interesting and unique green that had an infinite expanse of ideas but no ending. An infinite amount often infinity times infinity where my dream Bond other than but none of them had any finality today. They sort of we’re like a breath that hung in the air immediately condensing and then shattering to the ground, or the dust Motes that stated in the sun like they just danced about and didn’t really go anywhere. He’s on my memories are step it.

 

Stumbling up towards the tree I stepped on one of the route that raised above the ground pulling my body 6 inches higher to the point where I can see the tip of the steeple from Cape Town on the right. This was where Stephanie and I sat however my sister and I climb much higher into the tree until she fell out one day and landed on these roots. The root that held me now injured her. These roots filled up the ground beneath the tree over a couple hundred years and now had no more room and we’re lifting their knees buckling above the soft loamy soil. Stephanie and I used to Nestle into the cracks and shapes and allow it to cradle our bodies while sister use them as ladder stands. There was something about one thing being anothers’ ladder. About ones comfort spot being another stepping stone. It was about standing on the shoulders of those who came before you. And about using somebody else’s gentle rest in space as a rude way for you to climb the ladder of Life higher.  It was about the deep-rooted myth of someone else’s life to help support your own. Wonderful when children did it terrible when colleagues get it. We used to have some vines that hung low but apparently someone cut them off and that really upset me.

 

the fact that somebody else could destroy another quiet space help push me towards the idea of just leaving this small City. I had all sorts of ideas about moving on seeing friends plans for the future, that just leaving all of this in my dust and heading to some bar for a cocktail Trading all the stories of this tree after being drunk. For some reason this idea really made me feel something, just a little twisting of the truth the Boost myself certainly couldn’t hurt? I started feeling the motors revving as I was ready to relocate myself and start anew. I got up with strong stride headed towards that living room with resolve. Stepping through the dust Motes putting my face those universes of the infinite nothingness smacking me around. I breathed it in and felt entire universes go dark.

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