change, or, you can't go back, but it's nice to visit

as she mentioned earlier this week, the baron is visiting her family and friends in california. she's staying in her childhood home in riverside, where her mother and brother still live.

though very few things have changed inside the house, the baron has noticed them all, each one an affront to her memory: that new bathroom tile? those area rugs? the jigsaw puzzle on the dining room table - since when does her mother do jigsaw puzzles? outside the house, even fewer things are different, but she spotted them too: the lavender is three feet tall now, and was there always a purple rose bush in the rose garden? the lantana has been shaped into a severe hedge, the olive trees have been trimmed to their nubs, and the lemon tree is square (really, a square, and really, it's weird).

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the baron woke up just past 6:00 this morning, bullied into a corner of the bed by her mother's two tiny dogs (combined weight: 24 lbs). she pushed her way back to the center of the bed and tried to get back to sleep, but the sun - and the fragrance of orange blossoms - conspired to keep her awake. she decided to take a walk, an easy one around her neighborhood, through the streets, up to the shopping center, and back again. she had made this walk many, many, MANY times in her previous life, usually with a boy, and once when she was very drunk. in those days, before cell phones and the reinvention of apple, the baron took this walk with no distraction but the sights; today, she had her nano and the playlist from her new life.

it turned out, vampire weekend and modest mouse, the roots and the ramones were kind of inappropriate for her walk, reminders of the gym, and the husband, and maryland; she wanted something with a sublime feel to it, something easy and fun, something like the beach boys (but maybe not so pop as the beach boys). she scrolled through the playlist until she found something that felt suitable for the early sunshine, the morning's version of the gloaming hour. reader, she settled on pavement:



(isn't there something so great about pavement? something really californian about the music?)

with the perfectly appropriate soundtrack, the walk this morning gave the baron an opportunity to reflect on her childhood neighborhood, and reader, things have changed there too. she passed houses she used to know, or rather, houses that were once inhabited by families she used to know: the hymans, the avellas, the kennedys, the goldsteins, ms. farley's place. she's not sure how many of those families remain, the children having moved beyond riverside, the parents perhaps having moved to smaller houses, other towns. this saddened the baron, thinking about the change that had passed through the neighborhood - called canyon crest - that had once been the center of her life, changes that she had not even been witness to. changes that she had not even known were coming!

the streets on her walk reflected the change: every yard (really! every yard!) she passed was perfectly tended, perfectly manicured, a riot of color and growth. she saw outdoor patios, home additions, outdoor entry rooms, low stone walls and lots of bmws. she also saw many people walking dogs, enjoying the day before the heat set in, clutching a leash in one hand and a plastic bag (some empty, some full) in the other. these people, with their dogs, seemed happy to the baron. most likely, they had not noticed the changes, or, they were the change and did not know it.

the baron's walk was just 2 miles - if even that - and soon the she was back at her mother's house. the morning was still cool, but the forecast called for an 85 degree day. she came up the driveway, past her brother's truck (the one that had been their father's last and favorite auto purchase), past the squared-off lemon tree, past the lantana hedge, past the tiny birdhouses that decorate the path to the front door (these birdhouses? a new addition to the front walkway). she kicked off her shoes and was greeted by 24 lbs of fawn colored chihuahua and black and tan mutt. soon, thinking about coffee, and a shower, and breakfast, the baron's walk - and the sadness - was pushed to the back of her mind.