rest

We lost two days of school to snow (cars sliding in unplowed streets, shrieking children sliding down hills, hot tea, wet socks), and I personally lost another two days to a virus (croaky voice, clammy sheets, a 700 page trashy novel, infinite episodes of the Sopranos, hacking cough), and now I go back to it. I have not really thought of school, yet my inbox is full of questions and I have no answers, More than school I ponder will i ever have children? Will we own our own house? What will i do to make a living when this school year is over? How will i deal with a regular job with so few breaks....

"Be at rest," the elderly lady in crushed velvet said to Cameron as she inspected the fit of a coat at the vintage clothing store, a lazy stop over as we waited for our movie to start. Yes, I have been at rest, and am resistant to grinding back into motion.

Play me a train song

It is nighttime and the only reason I know we are climbing in elevation out of the Willamette Valley is because my ears have been popping. I plug in my laptop, and marvel at all the gadgets with which we occupy ourselves. Would more people be talking, meeting, interacting if this were not so? The power jack in the observation car is loaded down with cell phones, lap tops, and mini DVD players- this in itself becoming a point of interaction as we coach riders take turns using the one outlet. We all make sure that the elderly lady gets her chance. “I have to call my son to let him know when I’ve arrived.”

It was strange pulling out of Portland to go away. Watching the familiar fade to the unfamiliar, traveling under passes I usually drive over, seeing the back side, following the river, watching the ground freeze and the snow fall.