Just Visiting
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South Hampton is a big house next to a bigger house, next to an even bigger house. I’m staying in an even bigger house.
It has four gates, 15 foot hedges, a rock climbing wall, squash court, inside and outside tennis court, a cold water pool and a salt water pool with fish, and three mini ponies whose names are Stardust, Luna, and Little Dipper.
The house has televisions, which everyone gathers round and watches. But they don’t need it. They have sailboats.
Right now I’m sitting here in the living room, staring out a large bay window, a blue ocean, white sailboats drifting from one pane of glass to the next.
If Monet were alive he’d be here, sitting next to me with his oil paints, easel, and a large canvas and he’d paint what I see, and hang it in a museum in Rotterdam. And like the tulip fields everyone would want to see the sailboats of the Hamptons.
I want to just stay here and stare. But I can’t. It’s not my living room and these are not my sailboats. It’s not my life. It’s someone else’s life. Some one else’s house, and I’m a guest, just visiting.
