Development

Development

I wake up early one clear summer morning, light breaking my sleep. Noise.....unfamiliar, the scraping and squealing of metal machinery. The sound of crashing....destruction.

Out on the street, hot coffee in hand, I watch as the machine pokes a hole in the roof and bats off a gutter, as though playing with it’s prey.

My two boys, already dressed and on their bikes, Are fascinated by the wreckage as they watch from the sidewalk, outbursts of “Cool!” and “Awesome!” springing from their young lips.

Across the street, I see my neighbours’ home, with its’ perfectly tended flower beds, brilliant under the summer blue, like a pretty young girl so innocent to the harshness of life.

As I turn back to look again,

fine particles of dust float through the air, so surreal on this sunshine morning.

I imagine each one carrying tiny secrets of former occupants of these homes...... bitter fights, a loving embrace, laughter, gossip, babies, parties, anger, death.

The next day a young man comes with a huge truck, and the contents of three homes are chucked into a cold steel container....how could someone of maybe twenty, be assigned the task of taking away fifty years of memories? Does he even wonder about these homes and the former occupants, as I do?

Doesn’t matter now. The deed is done. There is no turning back.

This is Development.

By Shelley Jankola July, 2008