Dreaming of scheming.
I spent much of the bus ride working on my cover letter.
But about the time we passed the exit for Sandy Hook/Newtown I put away my work and stared past the pretty girl next to me out the window. All bare branches and winding hillside road until we hit Waterbury and you started to see the spires of church towers and the smoke billowing from a nearby factory and the commercial district neatly arrayed before you as you descended the highway. From above, everything looked sharper than I remembered. Cleaner. Even when we got into Hartford and there were cleared spaces that I don't remember, new parking lots, new building facades, all of it seemed sharper. More focused.
We spent most of the trip on I-84, heading steadily east in what proved to me a much speedier route than originally planned. Serendipity had me on that bus after prudence had urged me to get to Port Authority several hours early.
But when I did look out at my home state as it welcomed me back, I felt I was in some kind of shellshock. It all looked cleaner. Crisper. Kinder than I ever remembered it being.
I came home and after Mom picked me up from Union Station and went to bed, I played video games to keep from weeping with joy, all the time filled with images of my state as viewed from that mountain-road stretch of highway, a place that looked exactly and completely like a kingdom.
But about the time we passed the exit for Sandy Hook/Newtown I put away my work and stared past the pretty girl next to me out the window. All bare branches and winding hillside road until we hit Waterbury and you started to see the spires of church towers and the smoke billowing from a nearby factory and the commercial district neatly arrayed before you as you descended the highway. From above, everything looked sharper than I remembered. Cleaner. Even when we got into Hartford and there were cleared spaces that I don't remember, new parking lots, new building facades, all of it seemed sharper. More focused.
We spent most of the trip on I-84, heading steadily east in what proved to me a much speedier route than originally planned. Serendipity had me on that bus after prudence had urged me to get to Port Authority several hours early.
But when I did look out at my home state as it welcomed me back, I felt I was in some kind of shellshock. It all looked cleaner. Crisper. Kinder than I ever remembered it being.
I came home and after Mom picked me up from Union Station and went to bed, I played video games to keep from weeping with joy, all the time filled with images of my state as viewed from that mountain-road stretch of highway, a place that looked exactly and completely like a kingdom.