Goodbye To All This

As the leaves make their final farewells to the trees, I also bid adieu to Cedar Street. I was watching the world from my window when I made the decision to depart. There has to be a room with a better view than this, I told myself; a superior rectangle of world somewhere else that's more inspiring that this present portrait of quotidian ennui.  Perhaps it was just the net curtain irritating my face again, but I knew it was time to move on. Just take a look for yourself:

Commuter traffic struggles over the speed bumps in the street. The mailman shuffles down the sidewalk with his burden of unwanted consumer catalogs and credit card bills. Screaming children are dragged to school by exhausted parents. A homeless man collapses on the curb wondering where it all went wrong. All the neighborhood front and back yards have been paved over, so the early bird can catch no worm, fluttering aimlessly from wire to wire instead. And in the nooks and crannies of the cul-de-sac, a stray dog that's lost all sense of scent slams its head against the wall. Even the local rats seem confused by the haphazard sewer system that runs beneath the road. Where do all creatures great and small go from here?

I'm thinking the seaside. A brief thumb through the magazine called Coastal Living convinced me to check out ocean real estate. After all, I've always been fond of sand dunes and salty air, as the old song goes. I could haunt the harbor, watching what remains of the fishing fleet come and go. I could carve effigies of marine life from driftwood and sell my creations to tourists for cash. I could drink rum cocktails every night while watching the sun set over the bay. I could stack battered buoys and wrecked lobster pots against my house with a little plaque above reading "Ahoy there, matey. Welcome to the Captain's cabin."

I could do all that. But I'd be satisfied with merely seeing eternity reflected in a rock pool and the echoing sound of crashing waves. I'd bring the stray dog with me, too, because he'd enjoy all the smells of the beach and chasing gulls along the shoreline. We'd share a plate of fried cod and a side of clams then wander off home down the coast road. Contentment can be so easy.