We Were Here

At some point in the last year, while we were living here, a satellite flew over and snapped our picture. I didn't know when that happened, but it was sometime in early summer, before the monsoon floods, when all the world from above was brown and parched except the tree canopies.

I can see our patio umbrella opened up and in the spot where we have it. And when I zoom in I can see our two red chairs on the brown deck, and the black blob of the barbecue grill by the kitchen door. It's our stuff and it's where we put it.

So I know it was taken last summer, during our tenure here in our new home. And I know it was taken while we were at home, since the patio umbrella is open.

When I zoom out, I can see the new hospital a mile away and the new houses being built around us, so that's also proof that the satellite shot these in the past year. The hospital and the new houses and roads didn't even exist over year ago.

Weird. Do you check out your home from above on earth maps? Jim feels creepily invaded and spied on by this kind of technology, but I feel oddly comforted, like someone up there knows we exist.

We are here.