abstract imagination, Odd Little Stories, patterns

Missing– Found wires from days past

Two years ago or so I gave away a precious collection I had worked hard to acquire. What is so hard about giving away a bunch of old smashed wires you say? When you live in Mexico and walk on cobblestones that are five hundred years old, you have to look down as you carefully put one foot in front of the other. If you don’t, you can fall down. For many of us retired folk, falling can be dangerous, dibilitating and down right dangerous.
I used to do a lot more walking when I first arrived here five years ago. Times have changed. The point is in Mexico people are constantly building. There is construction going on everywhere. Building with concrete, steel, brick and mortar and adobe are a different animal than what I’ve been used to. There is constant pulvo or fine dust that accumulates heavily…everywhere. When did a lot of walking, the combination of looking down yielded a new sort of vocation. I began to collect pieces of wire that had been crushed, run over, rusted and every other transformation. They spoke to me with their weird shapes, sometimes very recognizeable as everyday icons. My little bag accumulated amazing things that became a gateway for my imagination. It made the walking more fun. Sometimes people would stare????
I figured I would do something with them one day. The one day never came. I was too busy to play. What was interesting was that friends would leave me treasures that they found on the streets and alleyways. Thank you. My front table was getting full of weird things people would leave me. I met an artist who was a pretty creative guy. He was struggling to make a buck, get seen and respected. As is my usual life path habit, I sacrificed my treasures to friends. I gave him my collection.
He said thanks and I knew immediately it meant nothing to him. I could see it in the blank look on his face. I had imagined him being very appreciative and creating great additions with these bits of wire to embellish his works. It was my personal opinion and only in my head. I never said it to him directly. Somehow I thought he would jump for joy over this stuff….To me these treasures would give more texture and contrast to his pieces. Mistake. Apparently he didn’t see it.
Now I am missing these silly things. To me they are a symbol of dreams lost. They represent my achievement in bringing myself here, leaving my past behind and trying to build another life. The area that I live in is changing so fast that sometimes I have to pinch myself to realize it really is happening. There is a huge new population of Americans and Canadians living here permanently now. Gentrification isn’t a word strong enough. Since I’ve come here, there is a whole new hospital, pharmacy and health clinics of many kinds. There are now quite a few beautiful modern homes in gated communities as well and beautiful upscale shops and stores. I can’t say if it’s right or wrong, good or bad. As long as it doesn’t destroy this wonderful friendly mixed community, I’m good with it and it’s a good thing. All I know is life is not the same. Some things are easier, some things are harder. I guess it depends on who you are, where you live and what you do. So I’m here now and moving on. All the letting go of my life in the U.S. is done. All the tears have been shed. The goodbyes have all been said. It’s time to ease on the throttle and coast a little in future days. Enjoy every day I tell myself.