Spring in small towns

I went to visit my grandmother today, in the Halifax hospital in Roanoke Rapids. It was a beautiful day for a drive, the beginning of another wonderful warm season. My grandmother seems to be doing better, which is good. While I was around, I decided to visit my great uncle as well, who was in Jackson itself, the family seat, a horrendously small town in the middle of nowhere. I lived in Jackson for about 8 months in my adolescence and it was a terrible experience. I don't like it very much, primarily for the residents who seem so adamant about not evolving with the times. However, there is a lot of joy to be found there, provided nobody actually tries to engage me in conversation, which, since I'm a stranger there, isn't likely anyway. While I was never able to appreciate the people who lived there, the land itself is beautiful. And in eastern america, beautiful untouched land is harder to come by than you might think. And because it's a small town untouched by the advances of time, spring there now is exactly like spring there was 10 years ago. 10 years here, in chapel hill, is a long time. A lot has happened in those years, and every passing year brings huge changes. In Jackson, every undeveloped and unfarmed piece of earth is covered in wildflowers; buttercups, violets, daisies, jonquils, even forest lilies. I walk through the town now and can pick a bouquet identical to the ones I made so long ago. The graves I visited have not been crowded further or overgrown; my bouquets decorate their stones just as they did before. I went to my great uncle's mill, and sat in the rickety interior with the old men, listening to the idle gossip and feeling the breeze blow through the door. The mill doesn't actually grind corn anymore, as it once did when I was younger. Other than that, it hasn't changed.

Spring, and summer, and the warmth and return to life that they bring, fill me with a pure and utter sense of happiness. If there is sunlight, warmth, flowers and green things, I'm at peace. It's what I imagine a religious experience is like; the sensation of being filled to the edges with a power other than yourself, being so happy you could disintegrate and STILL be happy. I smell of sunshine, sweat, and fresh air, and it's the best feeling in the world. I am still warm from the sun on my skin.

But just because I feel happy doesn't mean I'm not me; I am still full of dark thoughts. And being in a place like Jackson and the surrounding countryside makes me wickedly happy. Rural areas are filled with desolation. Decrepit buildings being devoured by time and nature. Cars rusting away to nothing. The remnants of past human development being conquered by the inevitable force of nature fills me with joy. One day, far far in the future, the streets we drive upon and the houses we live in will be broken and destroyed the same way. Trees will push through the asphalt, storms will melt the buildings, and everything will fade back into trees, and sunshine, and flowers.

Somehow knowing that makes the thought of living so much easier to bear. The mistakes we make will be erased by time and earth. It's as if nature/god/goddess/whatever has forgiven us in advance for what we will do. "Go ahead and fuck up. I'm just gonna destroy it eventually."

And by the way, if you haven't already, watch the "ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny" video from Newgrounds. It's so awesome!