Restless
Perhaps it’s the miles. The sound of the highway caressing my tires as I trek 59 miles to work. There is a lot of time to float, think.
Sometimes I miss the surprise of not knowing what's in front of me in some dark hallway as my toes tentatively reach forward searching. For me there is a certain paradox to home. I find comfort in knowing which pillow is mine by its density, in pouring myself into a beanbag that has taken my form from months of erosion due to reading. I know the smell of my house, I know if all is well or good by the state of the cats as they gather to the sound of my keys at the front door.
Of course there is the other side that whispers the true reason I am repairing my car is to prepare for a journey. And that the new radio, the first to work in two years of driving silence, will simply allow me to playout my whole music collection before I pull over in some distant town. Hell, there is even that adaptor for an Ipod. Could I do Panama via roundtrip ticket through Nome...who knows?
So this weekend after the jungle in my yard is cleared for the first time since last September, perhaps I will actually plant something, cultivate a garden, spread some roots...learn to draw while flat on my back in the grass...
Sometimes I miss the surprise of not knowing what's in front of me in some dark hallway as my toes tentatively reach forward searching. For me there is a certain paradox to home. I find comfort in knowing which pillow is mine by its density, in pouring myself into a beanbag that has taken my form from months of erosion due to reading. I know the smell of my house, I know if all is well or good by the state of the cats as they gather to the sound of my keys at the front door.
Of course there is the other side that whispers the true reason I am repairing my car is to prepare for a journey. And that the new radio, the first to work in two years of driving silence, will simply allow me to playout my whole music collection before I pull over in some distant town. Hell, there is even that adaptor for an Ipod. Could I do Panama via roundtrip ticket through Nome...who knows?
So this weekend after the jungle in my yard is cleared for the first time since last September, perhaps I will actually plant something, cultivate a garden, spread some roots...learn to draw while flat on my back in the grass...