Since moving home to the country, I no longer have a nice air conditioned gym to work out in. So I've taken to running down the back road where my parents live. It's interesting landscape to run in. I'll be going down the road and suddenly come across a run-down trailer sitting in the middle of a field, very Bastard Out of Carolina, or I'll be running past trees and trees, thick woods, and suddenly they'll open up and there will be a log cabin nestled in their shadows. Dogs howl and bark as I pass by, straining against their chains. And then sometimes a car or truck will approach me. I'll see it coming for at least a mile, unless I'm behind a hill, and as they pass, everyone waves at me. The men give me salutes like soldiers, and the women wave frantically as if I were a long lost son come home.
I don't recognize any of them, but apparently they recognize me. It makes me feel strange to not know these people any longer. I told my mother about all the people that wave and she can tell me who they are by what kind of car or truck they were driving. She'll mention that someone recently died, and I'll not know who she's talking about. "You know!" she says, and then goes on to tell me all sorts of stories that feature me and said dead people in them from when I was a kid and I just can barely remember these people. I feel like I'm living in a time warp or something.
And on top of that, I watched Peter Pan with my nephew and niece today, the newest version, and got all teary. Freakin Peter Pan, nearly any version, will do that to me every time.