Cul-de-sac

Whenever I walk through suburban neighbourhoods, I sometimes begin to imagine that the collection of houses that surround me rest at the complete edge of civilization. When this does happen, particular details occur to me that confirm this. For example, I start to believe that past the thick wall of trees I see in front of me, that are arranged in a tight uniform row (all behind the straight span of bleak and bland, brick, terraced, 2 bedroom houses) is absolutely nothing. The trees are the border between our lovely and wonderful world, and an infinite, endless, never-ending spiteful void, tainted a light blue and light grey colour, with the guise of being “the sky”. From where I’m standing, I did see a complete and absolute void. There is nothing beyond those trees, I convince myself. I can’t see past this enclosure into the next neighbourhood; the wall of trees marks, at least visually, the end of my known universe. I mull over this, justifying it to myself in my head. And then my feet do some thinking for me, and I walk around the corner, passing through a footpath sidelined by deteriorating wooden fences (each a different shade of wood, all with a musty smell). Slowly, but also all at once, I arrive in new surroundings; a whole new environment of bricks, windows, roof tiles, and unkempt wooden fences fill up a quiet cul-de-sac. I can still see the footpath behind me, and glances of my previous surroundings, but my view from before is gone, and in the past. I don’t want to go back that way, but I get the feeling I couldn’t anyway. A calm, gentle breeze blows into me, and I embrace what I can see. Here, there are no thick and tall trees, only reserved shorter ones, that do not intrude anywhere they aren’t wanted. Instead of the thick tall trees, I can see the light blue void much better, and the sparse streaks of smoky grey clouds, hanging in the sky from an invisible string. There are a cozy group of flats, and a set of larger detached houses, with golden fences and vibrant green shrubbery, complete with neatly trimmed lawns. A bungalow with a gravel driveway and hefty, full pine tree sits in the corner of the street. A squirrel climbs down from it and scampers toward me, clearly showing no signs of being afraid (or personal space for that matter) and stops a couple feet ahead of me. He turned his head to the side so only one of his eyes faced me, in a delicate and purposeful way that made me feel like he was curious. I matched his gaze for a while, and after which it seemed he gave me a nod of approval and then scamped off, returning to his pine tree. I kept walking through and around the cul-de-sac, long enough for the sun to pierce through the murky clouds to reach my face and skin, bringing a lovely warm glow. I closed my eyes, and enjoyed this for a moment.