(I've decided as a writing exercise to write 550 words everyday for two weeks and see what I come up with. The subject matter and narrative will not be limited to anything, and I will only be allowed to edit what I write once)
Part VII --- The Way Home (Part Two)
continued from Wednesday
Beyond that we come across Millwood Road, a street that a block to the west meets itself and thus is the nexus of the universe. We continue straight and the road begins to bend, distorting your sense of direction. Eventually Overlea Blvd greets us on the left, a path leading towards Science Centres and Don Mills but not home. Now we are escaping Leaside and the long bridge over the Don Valley Parkway bids us goodbye with an incredible view of the city seeming so far away, surprisingly.
The path splits in two directions once the bridge concludes so we make a left. This is the beginning of Donlands Avenue and while this section of road is as wide as a highway it is lined with houses on either side. The question approaches your mind how the residents of these homes ever get to sleep while living beside such traffic, but as O'Connor appears around the bend the thought fades away unanswered. At the corners of O'Connor and Donlands a closed breakfast chain makes you hungry, a pub makes you lonely, a Beer Store makes you thirsty and a pizza joint makes you wonder what's in your fridge.
Going east along O'Connor is severely unremarkable but fortunately Greenwood is not far. We turn on Greenwood and immediately wonder how such a narrow street could one: have two way traffic and parked cars and two: have a subway station named after it. Greenwood as a "major" street though possesses a rare thing that Yonge, Mount Pleasant, Laird, Donlands and O'Connor lacks: quietness. The roar of O'Connor drive fades rapidly as you speed down Greenwood and you feel at peace, happy to be away from the bustle and traffic. A ride through East York may seem dull and repetitive but at least that feeling of danger has been left behind from where you came. By the time Cosburn and Greenwood comes to your eyes and Dieppe Park on the left pokes at your curiousity, you realize you're almost home and that you just might make it there.
Greenwood narrows the more south you go (at least until Danforth) but we turn at Glebeholme before the road squeezes our wheels. This street is filled with trees and colourful lawns and holiday decorations and you wish you'd remembered your camera. Well, there's always next time.
As a personal sidenote to this journey, an old childhood friend of mine used to live around Mortimer and Greenwood, and so everytime I go by it's a bizarre experience for me. It's a sort of sensation where two sets of memories in my mind are clashing with each other. The Younger Me remembers taking the Mortimer bus (63 I think) to Greenwood and seeing a variety store on the south-east corner across the street from my friend's house. What's bizarre is that in my recollection the intersection is only vivid from a certain angle, so now that Older Me passes through there fairly frequently I'm seeing it from a different perspective. The variety store is still there, but seeing it so often now from a different side of the street makes it seem familiar as though from a dream. I suppose it's interesting how we recall places by the position we see them from, and how these places can appear strange to us when that position is changed.
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