TODAY AT THE LOCK I saw two young men with cameras and clipboards walking around the lock keeper’s house in a steady rain, stopping to jot things down and snap photos, then hurrying to protect their equipment from water damage.
I wanted to ask.
I wanted to put on my Tilley and go through the rain and ask.
See how much I’ve taken possession of this place that has captured my imagination, to the point wondering what they are doing and feeling they have no right to do it without my knowing?
I knew what I’d say.
I’m a writer who comes here often and I’m currently writing about the house (not true) and I can’t help but wonder WHAT IS HAPPENING? Is it being sold, renovated, knocked down?
I don’t put on my hat. I don’t get out of the car. I don’t ask.
But I also DO.
I do see how I’ve taken ownership. I do see the depth to which the metaphor of the neglected house has connected. I do begin to wonder whether what I’ve already written is just a toe in the water.
There is nothing quite so motivating
as seeing a subject that inspires disappearing!