in rural Paris, Iowa, and Wordpress

An Intermission

The Farmhouse

I must leave this blog and the other unattended for a time while I drive north. Preparations for this have prevented me from visiting all of your blogs over the past couple days. I am sick at heart about having to leave my home in Mexico even for a relatively short time. I am determined, however, not to be a drama queen about it. A visit to the United States of America is not a thing that is going to kill me, I don’t think. There is business there that I must attend to for my 91-year-old mother. I have put it off too long as it is. I cannot shirk this and let a brother or sister take care of it because there is no brother or sister.

Come to think of it, however, this is my blog. I am entitled to be a bit of a drama queen here if I want, am I not?

I wish that I could describe for you the experience of staying in that house and sleeping again in the same room in which I slept as a child with the same model airplanes and ships on the shelf, the same books, the same little awards for this or that, my pony saddle on the rail above the stairwell outside the door. The farmhouse is empty of people now, but it is still full of the flotsam and jetsam of people’s lives. I speak to my mother often via Skype. She has never expressed any interest in revisiting that house in which she lived for 64 years, the house into which she first moved when she was 27. I am not sure the house still exists in her mind, not the house that sits there today anyway. I have no interest in revisiting it either, although I must. It rather effectively rubs my nose in my own mortality.

The colors around me in Mexico this morning have already begun to fade, foreshadowing the spectrum of gray that awaits me. I feel no duty at this point in my life to anyone or anything up there except her. She was, after all, a perfect mother. I must therefore go back for a time and do these things as efficiently as I can, the sooner to return to my home in this place that has come to mean so much to me.

With that then I am shutting down for a bit. I must load this stuff in the pickup truck and point it north. Almost against my better judgment, I have developed warm feeling for all of you who visit this blog now and again. I will return here as soon as I am able.

!Viva México! México lindo y querido.

* * * * * * * * * * * *

 Enseña Cómo Todas Las Cosas Avisan de la Muerte

Miré los muros de la patria mía,

si un tiempo fuertes, ya desmoronados,

de la carrera de la edad cansados,

por quien caduca ya su valentía.

Salíme al campo; vi que el sol bebía

los arroyos del yelo desatados,

y del monte quejosos los ganados,

que con sombras hurtó su luz al día.

Entré en mi casa; vi que, amancillada,

de anciana habitación era despojos;

mi báculo, más corvo y menos fuerte.

Vencida de la edad sentí mi espada,

y no hallé cosa en que poner los ojos

que no fuese recuerdo de la muerte.

English Translation by A.Z. Foreman

He Shows How All Things Warn Of Death

by Francisco de Quevedo y Villegas (1580 – 1645)

I looked upon the walls of my old land,

so strong once, and now moldering away,

worn out by Time’s long march, day after day,

which had already sapped their will to stand.

I went out to the country, saw the sun

drink up the streams unfettered from the frost,

and cattle groan how light of day was lost

to woodland, with its shadows overrun.

I went into my home, but saw the crude

and rotted ruins of an agèd room;

my cane gone weak and crooked in the grime.

I felt my sword surrender unto Time

and nothing of the many things I viewed

reminded me of anything but Doom.

12 Responses to “An Intermission”

  1. April

    I too am going to have to return home very soon, though hopefully not for too long. As you know, there are very mixed emotions that go along with a homecoming. Good luck on getting back to Mexico as soon as possible, and safe travels!

    Reply
  2. spixl

    A good and loving son, you are. Happy trails to you, until we meet again…

    Reply
  3. dicklespot

    The angst of my last year was due entirely to my returning to my hometown, so I do empathize. Enjoy your trip the best you can, and sleep well knowing your home awaits you in Mexico.

    p.s. everyone deserves to be a drama queen every once in a while!

    Reply
  4. kalabalu

    We will wait..hoping you would come soon..We will wait knowing it must be just noon..We will wait for ,if you are the drama queen we are the tiny toons..we will wait..and wait..wait..for you and your post..and did you ask us to wait? I am not sure..but okay..since I said..then I must wait 😉

    Reply
  5. Alleys of Guanajuato | The Solipsist

    […] endeavor will have a limited appeal for my visitors, I know. But I am in mood isolated out here in this old farmhouse cleaning it out. For some reason this fits my mood. Look at it this way. You can go into some […]

    Reply
  6. kimgambleKim

    To me, that looks like a beautiful place to be … but I know, from cleaning out my own childhood home last year, what a confronting task it is.
    As if we are packing up and somehow disposing of a part of ourselves we hoped might endure, at least a little longer.
    As you say, it must be done, and there is no-one else to do it.
    I hope you take time to photograph your room, with its boyhood treasures, and post a piece about it … for posterity, you know …

    Reply
    • StephenBrassawe

      Kim, what a pleasure to see that you stopped by. Thank you. Many know what this is like. It involves a whole mishmash of emotions. Perhaps I will photograph the old room and some items in it.

      Reply

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