Pages of a Book

I went to Louisville today. As I drove into town on Highway 42, I spotted a book lying in the street; cover down, pages dancing in the wind. It symbolized so much of what Louisville is to me now: stories of the past, an old book filled with different chapters, words that dance in the wind.

I took a yoga class. I went all the way there, because there is a teacher that I like. She teaches a good class, but the culture in the yoga studio that I used to love is completely different.

The class was filled with wealthy women whose diamond rings weighed down their fingers that were topped with perfectly done nails. The scent of spray tans and high end scents permeated the studio. I feel like I do not belong there anymore. I cringe when the women began to chatter after class as I lie in savasana. They spoke as if everyone wanted to know about their husband's new Tesla and their recent girls night out.

After class, I took a drive into downtown Louisville. I went to turn on the street that I have been on so many times in my life, but I stopped for a moment because I thought I was turning on the wrong street. The street was unrecognizable. Neither my Great Grandmother's house or my Great Aunt‘s house looked anything the same. I stared for a moment in complete awe. How could these possibly be the same structures that once my ancestors lived? How could this possibly be the house that my Great Grandfather built with his own two hands? But it was, the skeleton was there.

I drove around the block. The trees were absolutely huge. It is hard to believe these are the same trees that I walked past as a little girl, but they are. They had just grown, like I had. They had changed just like my story has, even though they had the same roots and the same trunk.

I stopped when I rounded the corner and peered down the alley to be flooded by snippets. Snippets of memories; playing on my Oma’s clothesline post with my cousins as a child, a vision of my mother running down the alley as a little girl from a beheaded chicken that my Great Grandfather had decided her time was up, and the last upside down hang with my Mom on the clothesline post before my Grandmothers house was sold. A whole lifetime of snippets.

I took a moment to look at my Uncle Keith’s house who still lives there (who was actually a second cousin but in big Italian families any cousin that is older than you automatically becomes an Aunt or an Uncle.) I thought, "I wonder how he feels still being here, watching the drastic changes happen around him? I wonder how old he is? I wonder how he feels having once had the largest house on the block to now having the smallest house on the block?"

The stories flooded through my head and danced in the wind just like that book in the middle of the street, lying cover down with its pages flapping. I turned the corner and drove up the hill that I rode my bike up every day on my way home from school. It was a BIG hill, but this time I noticed that it wasn't, it really wasn’t THAT steep. I chuckled at the thought of complaining to my mother about the big hill and how torturous it was to pedal up. Especially that one time when somehow red ants had gotten in my pants and bit my butt and I cried the entire way up.

And then there it was, MY house. The house that I grew up in. The house filled with my stories. It was pretty much the same but painted dark brown. But there was one thing that wasn't the same, my beautiful tree. It was so big, it was grown.

I've had so many stories at this point in my life. So many different chapters, so many different versions of myself.

Louisville does not look the same. It does not the feel the same. It has different people now. Different stories and different books, lying in the street cover down with the pages dancing in the wind.

🧡 Jess

Postscript

My dear “Uncle” Keith passed away only a couple days after I wrote this. May he rest in peace with my beloved “Aunt” Shirley. Now I will drive this block and truly have no trace of my Louisville family that is such a crucial part of building the best little town in the USA……onward and upward.