One Last Look

October 29-30, 2001


This horrific putrid green carpet that turns my clean socks brown denies room 201 of ever looking decent even on its good days. With the summer crowd gone, the folks from up the hill (Mammoth) have moved in, and once again unfamiliar faces pass me in the hall, but they do not seem as friendly as my coworkers in the laundry. Behind our laundry building, snowplows are being prepared for winter, and the debates begin about the noise and air pollution these machines will produce in the park. The snow plows were once banned but George W. Bush vetoed that law, and so now, once again, the arguments rage on. I was in a melancholy on the walk home from the bar tonight, and the coyotes laughing in the distance added to my “breathe it all in” moment. I think it’s the loudest they have ever been. I am going to miss this place. How soon it takes for me to unknowingly start taking for granted what I used to only dream about. Tomorrow is Halloween but my compadre and I will be spending our favorite “holiday” on the road. Five and a half months in this place. As much as we complain about living conditions and factory work, there are many reasons which make these irritations and annoyances irrelevant and yet all the more worthwhile. There is an irrefutable charm in the air that has been tempting me even on the worst of my days. I should have used my time more wisely. I did good for a girl who’s never spent longer than two weeks away from home. But I still adhere to this overwhelming sense that I have only just begun to open up a section of myself I have neglected for most of my adult life. This certain “charm in the air” will only grow more potent the further away I travel and I will have no choice but to return and successfully fulfill the opportunities I shied away from this summer.

You never knew when the moment was yours, or where to go when given the chance. Only now will the moment present – dead in the mourning’s of past.

Author: Lindsay Niemann

Writer | Graphic Artist