It was never my dream possession or longed for house perimeter. It just happened to be around my yard when I moved in to my Los Angeles home. Further setting me apart from the symbolic American norm is that what I love most about the fence is its lack of perfection ~ the peeling paint, the loose pickets and the incredible amount of yard grime that finds its way on top of every possible ledge. To me that fence is more than a deterrent to neighborhood dogs and paparazzi ~ it has a life. No, I’m not contact high on medical marijuana, I’m just crazy about metaphors. And because when I look at that fence every day I am reminded that a life without layers of rippling texture, dirt and a little flexibility certainly isn’t as interesting as the ideally imagined one. At least not for this American life.
© Jennifer Dowd