It's the first day of December, and there is no longer any denial of the arrival of Christmas season. The corner Rite aid being my north star for such things, have filled their front walkway with what seems to be Christmas trees, except only a few inches of green is sticking out of moving boxes, labeled "this side up". Are we doing miniatures nowadays?
The mall had been torn up just not too long ago, loud and clunky vehicles constantly knocked at some patches of concrete. Mazes were built for pedestrians, and curiously stop signs were manned 7/24 to direct cars carefully around the cranes and tractors, as if anyone would have tested their bumpers against the thousand pound jaws of those babies. The noise alone drove half of the traffic away to other alternatives, it shook up the ear drum so much you instinctively held your hands up against the side of your head to keep them in place. A "digger" coming up from behind and starting on a new hole could well have been a machine gun firing squat, fumes of rock dusts and men squawking in parched throats complete the unerring effect.
Stores all but appeared sealed behind the construction crew, but their doors remained open in fact, for those brave enough to enter the Winchester house style mazes, without a hard hat, braving darkness, in search of a cup of joe, a sandwich, or a hair cut.
The overhaul isn't for naught. Just in time for the holidays, everything seems brighter, the walkways are wider and stores all look uniformly ready for lights and festivities. The few left undone look gray and worn, somehow this escaped my attention before and during all the reconstruction efforts. Suppose that's what's keeping us forward, this constant renewal and rebuilding, the keeping up with latest and greatest. Are we better off in the end? Where is the end? Is there one?
Meanwhile, I check out one perky miniature tree, and soak in the tiny bubble of nature it emits towards me.