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The Beginning
by
Harry Buschman
From The Westlake Village Collection.
There is a town I know. It's not a real town -- I put it together myself and
I call it Westlake Village. It's not as grand as Emerald City, but it's a
place anyone would be glad to come home to. It's a town of people more than
place
and with your consent, I'd like to show it to you.
I have friends here in Westlake Village. In a manner of speaking, everyone
I've ever known lives here. People seem to slip away as the years go by, their
faces grow dim, and without a town to put them in, they can very well get lost
and fade from memory. The heart doesn't forget and it's cruel to have the
heart remember and the mind forget.
So I've built this Town called Westlake Village.
My family live there, so do the girls and boys of yesterday. The friendships
and affections that were sworn for eternity but only lasted until the first
separation. Old lovers have miraculously stayed young, old children are
preserved in rosy-cheeked innocence .... old dogs .... old cats .... old
promises.
I must write while my mind is clear. Old people live from day to day and what
I remember today I might forget tomorrow. Westlake Village is as
insubstantial as a shell that the sea brings in and abandons on the shore. For
the moment
at least I can hold it to my ear and listen to its story.
©Harry Buschman 1998
(250)
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