Where I Find My Heaven

Peterborough, UK - Jamie - Wednesday, April 20th, 2005 : goo

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There’s this place I go sometimes. It’s partly a state of mind, but mostly it’s a tangible place. A wooden bench with a cast-iron frame set in the unadorned ambience of suburban woodland. Splendidly bejeweled with the years of idle teenage gossip, which rest scored, fat-tipped and copydexed onto it’s worn, weathered form. Its welcoming accommodation permits me a rare franchise of melancholy during times of emotional crisis. There are numerous benches, which dutifully attend my pernickety gravel path as it follows the course of a narrow river. Only one of these benches is my bench.

I recollect these familiar surroundings. Firstly I note the way in which the river bathes its waste-littered banks. With a mere cursory glance I mark the belligerent apathy of some long defunct river defenses. Reinforced concrete gun turrets that were once a last bastion of defense against the inevitability of German invasion. Perennial landmarks who now find themselves the unwitting victims of obscure preservation orders. This aimless government legislature protects its ripened beneficiaries from neither the diligent passage of time nor the rambunctious tenacity of youth. I register the unabashed attention of a small dog as it inspects my feet for signs of complaisance.

I no longer live locally to this place. I remember neither my first, nor most recent visit, but am nonetheless drawn back there repeatedly. Whenever I might need it, I find that it’s still there. Patiently waiting by the river’s edge; my unswerving sage.

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