something about placelessness

Bending off the highway is an unremarkable, two-lane road that aims toward the river. Going that way you pass a guileless elementary school; a fire station; a frayed church; a pasture (often harboring horses); and another church (this one sturdy and featureless). Then you drive amid woods, turns, and threats of deer crossing. Driveways that draw up to the road fall between these filmy landmarks, and my attention flits down to the houses as I speed this way. House after house withholds the greeting I wish would welcome me, and a low-scoring shame fills the void of no warm memories.