A Roadrunner is a Thing to See

 Lately my soul feels torn up like the undeveloped desert on which I used to roam. First, last year, they fenced it off with a giant chain link fence that went right up the edges of the little park, which was the first developement casualty four years ago. 

I have come to like the park and glad they built it, with its pond, its green lawn, its ramada with the picnic tables, and of course, the little free library.

They left behind the core parts of the places where I used to sit and meditate, and more appropriately, hide from the world. I have to hide from the world to stay sane sometimes. If I am telling you about this, consider a privilege of invitation, that I tell you where I hide. I am very good at putting up an agreeable front to the world, a harmless man. Sometimes the storm in my soul rages, not in anger, but in the bruit of noise that comes at me from all at once. In these moods I turn into an animal whom you cannot find. I will hide behind a tree so as not to be seen, as if I'm fugitive. If I tell you of my hiding places, it is because I trust you in a deep way. It takes a lot to earn my trust, mainly because I offer people my trust and they don't care about having earned it. They consider my gift nothing of value, and thus I am nothing to them. All you have to do to earn and keep my trust is value that I have given it to you.

But I'm nothing special, as a man. 

Anyway the great expanse of previously undeveloped desert was raked and raked each week night for months on end, the equipment heard for miles. They raked it right up the edge. They took out the wash that extended down from my little sanctuary called the "chapel", because it feels like one amidst the overhanging mesquite trees, and which thankfully remains, all that is left of the once great roaming area. I never thought they would take out the wash, but it makes sense, since they re-engineered the drainage of the entire expanse. The wash no longer serves any function. All the trees along it were ripped out to leave an obstructed view of the giant raked area, all the way down to the interchange on the 101.

It hits you in the face as you come along the path that winds down to the soccer fields. You are forced to see all that has been raked. But now out of the raked area have risen the giant concrete structures, almost overnight, looking like something ancient and Babylonian. It is impressive how fast they rose.

I think about the roadrunners. They used to be seen running across the park and into the expanse. Surely they have no interest anymore. A roadrunner is a thing to see that make your day feel special. Today I saw a roadrunner is something you want to say to yourself. 

There are secret places that still remain where they can be seen. Would you like to know? I will show you.