Laurie Swede
I have lived on the same 10 acres for my entire life; in the same red brick house with the same bushy garden out front and the same rusty dog pen spanning the back right corner of the front five acres of land. I watched the construction of our multi-fenced duck pen and the fall of our childhood playground as the years seeped through the roots of the estate. Change happens daily, every minute, and every second outside the natural world as time cleaves apart and reforms the landscape of memories. As rust continues to gather on the old dog run gate and the graveyard of childhood memories forcibly expands its border, I sit.
I sit on a dusty rocking chair on my front porch as the evening sun drips into honey gold and watch the cars rumble past on the road. With my hour-timer set, I stare at the passing cars and listen to the different acceleration patterns while boredom creeps into my chest. Sitting in the rocking chairs, I see a line of bushes in front of me claiming to be a garden; a rough, rotted stump of a tree sits in the lawn with new sprouts coming from its sappy entrails; a line of bushes and trees; and then the road. The urge to look at my cell phone pulls at me. I think about the misty sunrises that crest over the horse barn and field across the street and sit in the shadow of my house as the sunsets and birds flit around, chirping. Finding this not adequately entertaining enough, I pry my limbs from the dusty rocking chair and jump off of the brick-lined porch onto a bush-lined sidewalk and out onto the tree-lined driveway. I remember when my sisters and I would leave for school at 7:30 A.M. with sand in our eyes and see the sun rising perfectly between the tunnel of trees our driveway created, but now the sun rises off to the left and gets caught in the branches of these trees, having fallen prey to the movement of time. I walk across the driveway, between the new shed and the duck pen, and make my way towards the creek line. I stare at the patches of warm sunlight on the grass and breathe in the cool, fresh air. Looking towards the creek line, I see the trees bordering the tractor crossing form a portal of lush green leaves and shining sun rays. As I approach the entrance, the trees loom, and sag, and the underbrush sways in the breeze while I continue to walk along the path. I stand there in the middle of the path and stare at the dry creek bed that used to run often during the spring and see fallen trees and underbrush crowding the bed on both sides. The other week, after walking back from doing yoga, I saw something out of the corner of my eye while making my way across the crossover: two large dogs were standing there staring at me. I remember the feeling of terror like a bolt of lightning down my back when I realized. Tearing my eyes away from the empty stream bed, I look to the world this portal has opened up before me, and it is one of rolling hills and shallow forests. Sprawling before me is a grassy field bordered on all but one side by trees. I watch as the sun drips below the trees, turning burnt orange and carmelizing the entire scene in front of me. The broad clouds are painted orange and pink at the sun’s final valiant attempt at shining, and I watch as a herd of deer slip through the creek line and into this very field. There are two spotted babies, and three does that emerge from the brush with their faces pointed towards my sitting form, ears and bodies alert. After a few heartbeats they look away, finding no threat in me, and continue moseying through the field. I feel the lush grass under my hands as I stare at the herd of deer making their way up through the field and breathe in the dewy, golden-dusted air. I feel a part of something larger despite the mosquitos encouraging me to leave and watch as the ghost of the sun paints dark pink and orange in its absence. When I am at last sitting in the grey light of twilight, I decide to get up and walk back towards my house.
I get inside and immediately open my phone, checking my snapchat and tiktok for anything new. My eyes burn into the too bright screen as I walk with my eyes on my screen to my computer in the next room. The repeating video playing on my phone changes as my constant mindless scrolling draws me in. I sit down in my office chair at my desk where my computer is and scroll through videos and send some to my friends. I sit there and stare as my For You page shows me peculiar videos; some about cats and cooking and others about the collapse of civilization. A feeling of dread comes over me so I turn my phone off and open my computer. The screen lights up and I log in using face recognition to see all of the tabs I had open for school. I am reminded of all the work I still have to do and am slightly more stressed. I think about what I should do… Should I watch TV or play Wizards101? I used to play Wizards101 when I was a younger and I somehow remembered my old log in and am playing with my original wizard. I bought the member ship earlier this year for the wizard game and have been sucked in ever since. I don’t know if I feel like putting that much effort into anything right now though so I guess I’ll watch TV. I click on Netflix and start playing H2o in Spanish. I used to watch this show a lot when I was younger and I am currently listening to it in Spanish. I have been taking Spanish since freshman year and watching shows in Spanish has definitely helped me so far. I sit there and watch as the slightly grainy early 2000s show flips on and I skip the catchy intro. I watch an episode which is only 20 minutes and click the next one. I open my phone halfway through this episode to watch more tik toks but it is hard to listen to more than one thing so i turn off my phone and set it back down. I am attempting to crochet a sweater right now so I pull out my crochet hook and yarn and continue making squares while the show continues to play.
This experience really shows the contrast of the outside vs the inside world and the depth of both. Outside I felt calm and my thoughts were filled of notalgia and beauty where when i went inside I was getting overwhelmed by my constant scrolling on my phone and the searing lights of the electronics. When I was inside I definitely felt more stressed than when I was outside watching the sunset. It was relaxing and inspiring to be outside walking around and seeing nature in full where when I was inside I was only focus on watching a program.