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A Little Bit of Ugly
Finding those worn-down places in our souls.
Over the past decade that I’ve lived in my town, I’ve driven by this abandoned facility more times than I can count. Tucked off to the side of a shortcut road used to get from one side of town to the other, it doesn’t usually warrant a second glance. There are rail tracks just behind it, and, on occasional Sundays, you’ll get a glimpse of the engines and cars idling through the chain link fencing out front.
I know little of its provenance, and considering the other mill-era brick-and-mortar buildings in the surrounding area, it’s probably something I’ll never investigate further. It’s modern detritus in an age where the history of mortar, stone, and brick has more gravity for our stories. I was driving by over the weekend and figured its insignificance was worth telling a story about, especially as I wind down my time here over the next few years.
My town has always been a stop-over point for what comes next in my life. It’s been a decade of treading water, collecting myself, finalizing things, and trying to understand what I can do with my life. It’s had moments of insignificance, those days between the momentous fuckups and follies of my story. It’s had days of depression and depravity, of grace and mercy all the same. It’s been full of love, loss, and heartache as much as it’s…
